What Now?
by tipowath
Summary: Sirius's name has been cleared, but all is not well. As he and Harry begin to get to know one another, both come to realize that being a family isn't as easy as they'd expected. Azkaban and the Dursleys' never were the most stable of environments.
1. Rain

**A/N: I've always loved fics of the 'Harry gets a family' variety, and I've also always wondered just how a free Sirius and Harry would realistically interact. Sirius taking Harry in is a bit cliche, I know, so please keep in mind that I'm not planning on Sirius becoming Super-Dad and Harry instantly adapting to his new environment. On the other hand, I have no intention of simply repeating the word 'ANGST' over and over for fifty chapters. A healthy middle ground sounds about right, right?  
**

**Thank you for reading; any and all constructive criticism is always welcome, and in fact encouraged. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

**Summary: Sirius's name has been cleared, but all is not well. As he and Harry begin to get to know one another, both come to realize that being a family isn't as easy as they'd expected. Azkaban and the Dursleys' never were the most stable of environments, after all.**

* * *

**What Now?**

* * *

_Chapter One:_

From his bedroom window, Sirius could see the trees outdoors swaying in the wind. A particularly strong gust rattled the windowpanes in their frames, and although the thunder had ceased earlier in the night he could tell that the storm was far from over. He wasn't especially bothered, however. Azkaban had been continuously stormy, and while he didn't particularly enjoy the weather it was easy to ignore.

Sirius couldn't sleep. He'd tried for the last few hours, but it was starting to seem that he would never be able to force his body to shut down. Pushing himself out of bed, he made his way downstairs, not fully sure where exactly he was going. It was no use to force himself to sleep when he'd napped half the day away. He was trying to adapt to a somewhat regular sleep schedule, but saying was easier said than doing. Upon leaving Hogwarts there had been the war to deal with, and he'd learned quickly that he valued staying alive more than getting his eight hours of beauty rest every night.

Azkaban had been even worse- there was no way of knowing if it was day or night, as the sky had remained dark and stormy at all hours. Sirius had slept when he felt like it, which was most of the time. There wasn't much else to do other than read the _Daily __Prophet,_ which he only was able to get a hold of once every few years. By now Sirius could recite the contents of the three newspapers he'd had from cover to cover.

After that he'd been on the run. Staying away from Azkaban and bringing Wormtail to justice hadn't left much time for conventional sleeping patterns, and now that he was free to do as he pleased Sirius found that tossing aside all the years that had passed since leaving Hogwarts was easier said than done.

The house- _his _house, he had to keep reminding himself- was small, but it didn't seem that way to him. Back at 12 Grimmauld Place there had been numerous rooms, all filled to the brim with ornate furniture and knickknacks of every variety. He'd lasted a day and half there before begging Dumbledore to help him find somewhere, anywhere else to live. It was a long and difficult process for a wizard to secure land for a house not in a wizarding village, as there were Muggle repelling charms to consider, and it wasn't as though they could keep Muggles from accessing more than half the country without raising suspicion. Still, Dumbledore being Dumbledore meant that he had connections, and before a week had passed Sirius found himself in his new home. It was small and in the middle of nowhere, just as he had wanted. The rooms were open and airy, and as unadorned as possible. Sirius adored it.

Sitting on the sofa, Sirius stretched out and tried to occupy his thoughts. For years he'd been able to lay in silence for days and weeks and months with only himself for company, but now that he wasn't required to it was more difficult than before. He briefly considered transforming into his dog form, just as he had when the loneliness had threatened to overtake him in Azkaban. The release when he did so was wonderful, and although he retained enough of himself to be somewhat self aware, his emotions became simplified. The wrenching that seemed to physically rip him apart whenever he thought of James and Lily was replaced by a generic sadness, and everything blurred just enough so that he wasn't quite sure why he was so upset.

He decided against transforming tonight, as doing it alone reminded him too much of being in Azkaban. If he was going to transform, he was going to do it because he damn well felt like it, not because he thought he needed to. Maybe he needed someone to talk to- that always seemed to help.

Crossing to the fireplace, Sirius dropped to his knees and tossed a hand of Floo Powder into the grate. "Remus Lupin's flat!"

Green flames sprung up, and Sirius stuck his head directly into them. Before long, he found himself looking into the rundown living room of the only Marauder left aside from himself. "Moony? You there?"

After a moment passed, he tried again. It was only when Remus stumbled in, bleary eyed, that Sirius remembered just what time it was. "Crap, I'm sorry Moony. I forgot the time; go back to sleep-"

Remus stifled a yawn and sat cross legged in front of the fire. "It's all right, I wasn't sleeping either. The rain's too loud."

"Want to come over?" Sirius asked. "I could use some company. Maybe I'll make breakfast five hours early..."

"You can't cook at all," Remus said, stifling another yawn and smiling. "Give me five minutes and I'll come over and do it myself."

Sirius smiled as well. "Thanks, Moony. I should wake up at three in the morning more often."

Remus muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he headed into his bedroom to get dressed. Sirius took a glance around before pulling his head back into his own living room and noted, not for the first time, just how shabby everything Remus owned was. He'd mostly stopped trying to offer him money (as he was always refused), but something really needed to be done. Sirius wasn't quite sure _what_ yet, though.

The fire sprang to life once again, and Remus emerged, dusting the soot off his robes. "You've fixed the place up nicely."

Sirius glanced around skeptically. It looked just as he had when he'd moved in. "Not much has changed."

"It seems more lived in," Remus said simply, and they started for the kitchen together. "Eggs?"

"Sure. Anything is fine- I lived off lumpy beige rubbish for twelve years, and it was mostly rats and plants for the year after that..." Sirius trailed off when he saw the look on Remus's face. "Cheer up, it wasn't _that_ bad. Sometimes old women would have pity on me and leave out bowls of dog food. And either way, I'm alive now, aren't I?"

Remus didn't say anything, instead busying himself with the beginnings of an omelet. "I don't know how you survived that place."

Sirius shrugged awkwardly, not sure what to say. "I transformed whenever it became too much. And it really only tears you apart if you're guilty, you know. I had that to hold onto." Before Remus could say anything, he quickly changed the subject. "But enough of that. How's the job hunt going, by the way?"

"Miserably," Remus said matter-of-factly. "I'll find something soon enough, though. I usually do."

"If you'd just let me lend you-" Sirius spoke over Remus's objections. "_Lend_ you, not _give_ it away-"

"If I'm starving on the streets I'll ask you for help," Remus said flatly. He turned his attention to the omelet and added, "I'll be fine, Sirius. It's just the way life with my condition is."

"It shouldn't be, though. And in your case it doesn't have to be."

Sirius didn't expect a response, and he didn't get one. He supposed it was his own fault for bringing it up- these conversations never ended well. When Remus glanced in his direction, he put his hands up in the air and said, "I'll drop it. I think you're cracked, but I'll drop it."

"Thank you." They fell into a comfortable silence, and before long Remus turned the heat on the stove down and reached for a plate. "Yours is ready."

Breakfast was simple but delicious. Almost everything seemed delicious now, but Sirius could taste the difference between his own cooking and Remus's. "This is great, Moony... Merlin, the food in Azkaban was shit. I don't even know how they made it- it's hard to picture a Dementor in an apron flipping pancakes..."

Remus didn't smile, but Sirius supposed it wasn't a particularly amusing joke. "You're doing all right, then?"

He shrugged- he was mostly all right, but it wasn't as if he was doing back flips each day. "Yeah, I'm all right. Better than I've been in a long while, at least."

"You never should have been there to begin with." Remus sighed. "In Azkaban. I should have realized-"

"It was my own fault for thinking that you were the mole. I just..." Sirius trailed off and sighed as well. "We were both idiots."

Remus nodded in agreement, and after a moment of awkward silence they returned to their food. Sirius wondered if that little voice in the back of his head that started whispering whenever Remus was around would ever go away. The little voice that constantly reminded him that if he hadn't suspected his friend that James and Lily never would have switched Secret Keepers and everyone would still be alive now.

"I don't blame you or anything," Remus said after a moment had passed. "I mean... my kind isn't known as being the most trustworthy..."

"Oi," Sirius said sharply, lowering his fork. "Shut up. You know I don't think of you any differently just because of that."

"Well, I wouldn't blame you if you did." Remus took a deep breath, then changed the subject. "Is Dumbledore letting Harry spend the rest of the summer with you?"

"I don't know yet. I think so, though." Sirius said, knowing that whatever he said about Remus being a werewolf not mattering would fall on deaf ears. "I wish I could get full custody..."

The blood wards provided by the Dursleys hampered that a bit, however- if he were to adopt Harry, 4 Privet Drive would effectively cease being a magically recognized 'home' for Harry, meaning the blood protection he received from Voldemort would be null and void.

"I'll probably get most of the summer with him," he said. "It's not enough, but at least it's something."

"It'll be good for him, and you," Remus agreed. "He wants a family badly, I've gathered as much."

Sirius nodded, and then, out of nowhere, he found himself thinking of that night, running across the grounds with Harry and the others. He thought of the Dementors swarming before being called off by Dumbledore, and what had followed when Pettigrew had failed to escape-

He couldn't think about that now, just as he couldn't think about what had transpired at his own trial afterwards. Not that it was anything more than a show trial now that it was clear he was innocent, but the whole experience had still been incredibly intense, especially when one considered the _incident _that had transpired when-

No. He wasn't thinking about that now, because he was innocent and happy and very likely about to spend most of the summer with his godson, around whom he was able to act with such a carefree easiness that he half believed he really _was_ at ease. He was not going to dwell on the past. And if he kept telling himself exactly what he was going to do, maybe eventually his mind would listen.

"Are you really all right?" Remus asked, staring at him intently.

"Not really," he admitted. "But I will be eventually."

* * *

Harry had packed his trunk several times, but each time he found he was unable to shut its lid. Even on an average day he never bothered with folding his clothes and stacking his books neatly, and now that he was this excited it was all the more difficult to slow down and do it properly.

Summer holidays with the Dursleys had never been particularly fun, but each day seemed to drag by without end now that Harry knew he'd be free by the start of July. Knowing that he could be with Sirius instead of eating grapefruit quarters for breakfast and listening to Dudley wail about his involuntary diet was torture, and Harry had taken to keeping track of how many days he had left in his head.

_Two more days,_ he told himself as he sat on the lid of the trunk to make it go down. _Two__ more days and I don't have to see any of them until next year._

The trunk still wouldn't close, and Harry gave up for the moment. Sitting at his desk with halfhearted intentions to try to do some of his summer homework, he instead found himself drawn to the letter he'd read so many times that he now knew it by heart.

_Dear Harry,_

_Good news! You can spend part of the summer with me- how does the first of July sound? Arthur's still looking into getting World Cup tickets, but he's pretty sure he'll get them. How does some time away from your aunt and uncle followed by some Quidditch sound?_

_Sirius_

Harry still couldn't believe it was all real. The trial had been swift and completed before the term had ended, and Harry hadn't been permitted to attend it, much to his frustration. He'd expected to testify- after all, he'd played a huge role in the whole thing, but Dumbledore and Lupin had testified instead. Harry had heard vague rumors about something happening during Snape's testimony, but he wasn't fully sure what had transpired, and no one would give him a straight answer. In Harry's opinion, he'd probably demanded that Sirius be locked up for another twelve years. Harry vowed to ask Sirius when he saw him.

There was a tap on the window, and Harry glanced up to see an owl pecking at the windowpane. He hurried forward and slid the window open, allowing the bird in. On the street he could see two neighbors elbowing each other and pointing, mouths open. He wondered how Aunt Petunia explained the owls that came and went from his bedroom to the rest of Privet Drive. Probably something to do with his being a dangerous delinquent- maybe he was feral now as well.

The handwriting belonged to Sirius, and Harry quickly ripped the envelope attached to the package open. Inside was a response to Harry's most recent letter.

_Dear Harry,_

_I had a feeling you'd be excited! I'm busy setting up a room for you now. Do you want it to be any particular color scheme? I found some of my old Quidditch posters at my parents' house, and I'm putting them up now. We can go to Diagon Alley at some point and buy some newer ones, too.  
_

_So, how's life with the Dursleys? Have your aunt and uncle already bought your cousin a replacement for the play-game-thingy he broke? Are you still living off of carrots? I sent you a cake I tried to make. I'm not sure how edible it is, but if it's truly awful maybe you can give it to Hedwig. On second thought, that might be cruel to her too. _

_No matter how awful the Dursleys are, look on the bright side- at least you'll be free in only a couple of days!  
_

_Sirius_

Harry tore open the package and grinned. The cake was, in fact, disgusting, but it was certainly better than dinner had been. Once he'd eaten enough for the time being and stashed the rest under the loose floorboard, Harry reached for a quill and ink. Flattening a piece of parchment on the surface of his desk, he began to write quickly.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thanks for the cake, it was ten times_ _better than the stuff I've been eating. Dudley's diet is still on, though he's still cheating. To answer your question, no, he doesn't have a replacement PlayStation just yet, but it'll only be a matter of time before Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon cave in. After all, it's hard enough on him by being on his diet, or at least that's the way they put it.  
_

_Thanks for the Quidditch posters, and don't worry about any particular color scheme- anything is fine. I can't wait until I can join you! I normally hate the summer, but not this year. Write back soon!_

_Harry_

The owl accepted his letter and flew back the way he came. Harry flopped onto his bed, unable to keep himself from smiling. Finally, it was guaranteed that he'd be able to spend part of his summer somewhere he was wanted, and he wouldn't even have to get there by escaping in a flying car or nearly being killed by a three decker bus. It would be like being at the Weasleys- like having a family. No one would ignore him when he came down for breakfast, and he wouldn't have to carefully monitor each word he uttered for fear of accidentally referring to the dreaded 'M' word.

Harry thought back to what Sirius had said when they'd first met, about living with him. Maybe this would be permanent. Would Dumbledore allow it? Did Dumbledore have any say in the matter to begin with? Technically, Sirius was his legal guardian. But then again, that had probably been changed when Sirius was sent to Azkaban. But everyone knew he was innocent now, didn't they?

Maybe he'd never have to stay with the Dursleys again. Maybe this would be the last summer he listened to Dudley's temper tantrums. Maybe when he walked out the door come the first of July he'd never set foot in 4 Privet Drive ever again.

Down the hall, Dudley began to let out loud, fake tears. From the sound of things, Aunt Petunia had found his stash of sweets. Glancing around his small, cramped bedroom, Harry decided that he was more than all right with the idea of leaving forever.

* * *

Uncle Vernon sat stiffly in the living room, staring at the clock as it ticked closer and closer to noon. "Wouldn't surprise me if he doesn't show up- convicted criminal and whatnot."

"He was pardoned," Harry said, not knowing why he bothered- Uncle Vernon knew this perfectly well. "He was innocent."

"Hmph. I can imagine his type- reckless, lawbreaking, but when he's blamed for the one thing that wasn't his fault he's suddenly an angel." Uncle Vernon turned to Dudley. "Don't say a word to the man, not even if he speaks to you first."

Dudley nodded quickly, and Harry noticed his hands had begun to inch toward where he'd once had a pig's tail. "I won't."

"How's he coming for you, then?" Uncle Vernon asked, returning his attention to Harry. "Flying carpet?"

"I'm not sure," Harry admitted. "I suppose he'll just knock on the door like anyone else. I hope he doesn't try and Floo here, I didn't tell him about the fireplace being boarded up..."

"Floo?" Uncle Vernon repeated suspiciously, and Aunt Petunia involuntarily shuddered.

"Don't you talk about that under this roof!" she snapped.

"Sorry," he said quickly. "And he won't- you're not connected to the Floo Network."

"Floo Network?" Dudley repeated. "What does that do? Does it give you the flu?"

Harry didn't respond- Uncle Vernon was glaring at him too intensely- and instead glanced around the living room. His aunt and uncle had bought a new television in the past year, and a new school picture of Dudley hung behind it. There weren't any photos of Harry, except for one where his foot was visible as he left the room. The Dursleys probably hadn't noticed, because if they had Harry imagined it would be disposed of.

Once again, he thought about the possibility leaving and never returning to 4 Privet Drive. He was already spending most of the summer with Sirius, so why couldn't he spend future holidays with him too? In his last letter Sirius had told him that he'd readied a bedroom for him, and Harry already considered it his own more than Dudley's second bedroom despite the fact that he hadn't actually seen it yet.

The clock chimed twelve times. Harry stood up and glanced up and down the street from the window, but the only movement was a car several blocks down and a cat climbing a tree.

"Your sort doesn't favor punctuality much, do they, boy?" Uncle Vernon asked, obviously pleased by Harry's discomfort but annoyed at having to wait any longer than necessary to get rid of him.

"I dunno," he responded flatly. "Hagrid knocked down the door at the stroke of midnight that one time, pretty punctual if you ask me-"

"Don't talk about-" The vein in Uncle Vernon's forehead had begun to throb, and he couldn't finish his sentence. Even if he had been able to, he would have been cut off by the knock at the door.

Harry rushed for the door and pulled it open before Aunt Petunia had even managed to rise to her feet.

"You're here!" Harry grinned and threw his arms around his godfather. "How'd you do that? I was just looking out the window and only turned away for a second-"

"Apparated," Sirius said smoothly. "Don't worry, no one saw me."

Harry felt his grin widen. "That's wicked! Isn't it against the law, though? To Apparate in a Muggle area?"

Sirius waved a hand in response and turned to the Dursleys. "Well, hello. It's nice to finally meet you."

Uncle Vernon grunted, not bothering to stand up. "So, you're the boy's godfather, then?"

"I am," Sirius said with a nod. He crossed the room and stuck out his hand. "And you're Lily's family, I imagine. Not much of a resemblance, I'm afraid."

"Thank goodness for that," Uncle Vernon muttered under his breath. "And if you'd be so kind, I'll ask you not to use any of that... that _abnormality_ where the neighbors can see it."

"Don't worry," Sirius said without a beat, and he let his hand drop. "I'm not planning on staying any longer than necessary. Harry, where's your trunk?"

"Upstairs, in my room," he said, and started toward the stairs. "Hedwig's cage and my broom are up there too. Could you help me carry everything down?"

"Sure thing. _Lovely_ meeting you all, you have no idea," Sirius said to the Dursleys in such an over the top impression of a gentlemanly voice that Harry laughed out loud. Once they were upstairs, Sirius exhaled loudly. "Lily always said they were pains in the arse, but I didn't think they'd be _that_ bad."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Please. They're on their best behavior; you haven't seen them when they're anywhere near their worst." He paused, then added, "Did my mum really say that?"

"All the time. I think she was really hurt when her sister didn't ask her to be in her wedding..." Sirius trailed off at Harry's expression. "What?"

"Nothing... it's just that I don't really know much about my parents. Or anything, really. I have this," Harry said, reaching for the photo album Hagrid had given him. "But that just shows me what they looked like, not how they really _were_, you know?"

Sirius sat heavily on the bed and began to leaf through the album. "Merlin, I'd forgotten about a lot of these... Oi, there's me."

Harry looked at the picture Sirius was pointing at. It was the photo taken at his parents' wedding, and he was struck by just how young Sirius looked. "How old were they, when they were married?"

"Eighteen. Just out of Hogwarts." Sirius shook his head and laughed, although it wasn't quite as effortless as his last few. "We were children. Didn't seem that way at the time, but we were. It's strange to think about it..."

It was hard to imagine for Harry as well. He couldn't picture himself married in only four years, but that was the age his parents had been when they'd done it. "How old were they when I was born? And when they died?"

Sirius tore his gaze away from the picture. In a startled tone of voice, he asked, "You don't know? I mean, I understand not knowing when they were married, but no one ever told you the year they were born?"

Harry shook his head. "I knew my mum was younger than my aunt, and that she and my dad were in the same year, so they had to be young, but whenever I asked about it..." He trailed off. "My aunt and uncle don't really like questions."

"Arseholes." Sirius rose to his feet and started for the door. "I ought to give them a piece of my mind-"

"Don't. It's not worth it; they're not going to change." Harry picked the album up from where Sirius had tossed it on the bed and stuck it into his already bulging trunk. The lid still wouldn't close, and he tried sitting on it.

Sirius sat on the bed and shook his head. "Your parents were twenty when you were born and twenty-one when they died."

"Oh," Harry said. He wasn't sure what to think- he'd pictured them being somewhat closer to their mid to late twenties. "So if they were still alive..."

"They'd be thirty-four," Sirius finished. "Like me."

"Oh," he repeated. Again, he didn't know what to say. Picturing his parents as however they might look at thirty-four, he turned to his trunk once more and tried not to think about it too hard- they were dead, and he couldn't change that. "I can't close this."

"Get up," Sirius said, and with a flick of his wand everything managed to squeeze itself in just enough for the lid to be shut. "Hm, I was trying to make the clothes fold themselves, but that's good enough, I suppose."

Harry gazed at the closed trunk jealously. "I wish I could use magic over the holidays, it would make things so much easier..."

"Well, the only way the Ministry knows an underage witch or wizard is using magic is if they're the only ones in the household with magical abilities..." Sirius trailed off and paused for a moment to let that sink in. "I'll teach you a few spells, if you want. Your dad and Remus and I actually invented a few in our last couple of years at Hogwarts."

"Pettigrew, too?" Harry asked, and Sirius's face went dark.

Almost instantly it was as though Harry was reliving that day- running, the Dementors swarming, the shouts from up ahead, Pettigrew-

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "I didn't mean to bring that up-"

"No," Sirius said, shaking his head. "Don't apologize... he can't hurt us now, can he? And yeah, he did help with a few spells. He wasn't that great, though."

Harry nodded, then asked, "How are we getting to ou- your house?"

He'd almost said _our_ house, but caught himself at the last moment. Maybe he mentally considered Sirius's house to be his own as well, but he wasn't about to say that to his face. The last thing he wanted to hear was that he couldn't live there full time, especially when he wanted to so much. The blood wards protecting Harry each year from Voldemort were lifesavers, but Harry found himself silently wishing that they were at least transferable, or that Sirius was a blood relative.

"How about we mess with your relatives' heads a bit?" Sirius asked. "Have you ever heard of Side Along Apparation?"

Harry shook his head, and Sirius explained the concept to him, finishing with, "And they'll probably be sitting stiffly down there, jumping at every noise, for at least another hour before one of them gets the nerve to come up and find out we've been gone for ages."

"That's brilliant," Harry said with a grin. "But what about all my things?"

Sirius tapped Harry's trunk with the tip of his wand, and it shrunk so that it fit in the palm of his hand. He did this to Hedwig's cage and Harry's broom as well. "Nice, isn't it? We learned that one sixth or seventh year. I'll try and teach it to you over the summer..."

"Brilliant," Harry repeated, and took Sirius's arm.

For a moment he was convinced that something had gone horribly wrong, as his insides felt as though they were being compressed through a long, narrow tube. Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over, and Harry found himself standing in the garden behind a small house in the clearing of a lightly wooded area. Sunlight streamed through the trees, and the sound of birds filled the air instead of the occasional passing car back at 4 Privet Drive. There was a rushing noise in the distance, and Harry imagined that there must be a stream nearby.

"It's not the largest of places," Sirius said, gesturing to the house. "But I like it."

"It's amazing," Harry said honestly.

"You haven't even seen the inside yet." Sirius opened the back door and put on the formal air of a butler, but he wasn't able to wipe his smile from his face. "Your room is upstairs. I've left the door open."

Harry stepped into the kitchen, which seemed larger than it really was due to several large windows. The entire lower floor was very open- a large wooden archway led from the kitchen to the living room instead of a door, and the furniture was simple but comfortable looking. Once upstairs, Harry knew which room was his instantly. Quidditch posters adorned red and gold walls, and his bedspread was similarly colored. Looking up, Harry saw that on the ceiling there were painted Quidditch players that zoomed around playing an actual game.

"Did you do that?" Harry asked, gesturing to the ceiling as a Chaser tossed the Quaffle through one of the hoops on the far end of the room.

Sirius leaned against the door frame. "Nah, I'm rubbish at stuff like that. I just bought the decals and charmed them up there- they're supposed to look like they've been painted. Is everything all right, then?"

"It's perfect. Sirius, you didn't have to go through all this trouble."

"It was nothing. I was up all last night anyway, so it gave me something to do." Sirius sat at the desk and began resizing Harry's possessions back to normal. "There, the trunk should just fit at the foot of the bed... I'm sorry the room's so small. I know it's not much larger than your bedroom at the Dursleys-"

"It's perfect," Harry repeated. "Trust me, Sirius, I've slept in smaller rooms than this."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Harry suddenly wondered if he would wake up at any second and find that he was still at Hogwarts and Sirius Black was still after him. Or worse, he'd wake up in his cupboard and find that there was no magical world at all.

"How about we go flying for a bit?" Sirius asked, pushing himself up. "The Muggle repelling wards are pretty strong, and the nearest village a bit of a hike to begin with."

"Do you have a broom?" Harry asked, reaching for his Firebolt.

"Not yet, but I'm going to buy one soon," Sirius said. "For now I was hoping we could share- the last broom I rode was a Cleansweep Six, and I've been dying to give one of the newer ones a spin."

"Go ahead," Harry said, passing him the broom. He'd missed flying, but a month was a lot shorter than thirteen years. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," Sirius said, grinning at him and bounding down the stairs like Dudley at Christmas.

Harry paused before following him- the room was perfect, but he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous that all this wasn't going to last, and at any moment everything might come down like a house of cards. Pushing his unease aside, he forced himself to join his godfather downstairs.

* * *

Sirius sat on the back step, watching the trees sway in the wind. It hadn't rained since the storm earlier in the week, but the wind was picking up in such a way that it was clear that it would start again soon. He couldn't sleep, instead having had nightmares about James and Lily, which had segued into ones about Pettigrew and the Dementors. But he wasn't going to think about that, because he never let himself think about that, and this was no time to start.

It wasn't quite as easy as that. Before long Sirius found himself remembering Wormtail's unseeing eyes as the Dementor pulled back, just as James and Lily's had been in death, but _different_. Wormtail wasn't dead- he was worse than dead. And as much as Sirius hated him for what he'd done, the idea that his soul was simply _gone_ was enough to horrify anyone.

He was only thirty-four, but Sirius only had two friends left- Remus and Harry. And things were far from normal with Remus, what with his thinking his friend had been a spy for Voldemort and Remus thinking he'd been a mass murderer. Sirius couldn't forgive himself for that, and he knew Remus felt the same way. That, and as much as he hated to admit it, he did resent him a bit. It was his own fault for switching to Wormtail as the Secret Keeper, but part of him wished Remus had known and not just believed that everything was his fault.

But it was all his fault, wasn't it? He hadn't trusted Remus, and after all this time he honestly wasn't sure why. There had been a fight, and things had been said, and-

Before he could bring all those memories back to the surface, Sirius transformed into a dog. He was trying to cut back on doing that, but the relief was so instantaneous he couldn't help himself. He knew that he was Sirius and that he was actually a human, but he'd forgotten why he was upset. There was no reason to be upset if he didn't know the reason, right? And relaxing on the grass was so much better than worrying...

There was a faint noise at the door, and Sirius looked up to see James. No- not James, it was his son- Sirius shook his head back and forth, vaguely aware that something had happened to James long ago. He didn't know what it was that had happened, but if he transformed back into a human it would come back to him. Sirius didn't think he wanted to know.

Harry sat on the step, and Sirius padded over next to him and wagged his tail appreciatively when his was rewarded with a scratch behind the ears.

"You have to teach me how to do that," Harry said, and while Sirius understood what he was saying he had difficulty fully processing it.

Reluctantly, he turned back to a human, but now that he wasn't alone he found that he didn't feel nearly as bad as he had before. "It's difficult as hell, and Dumbledore would have my head."

"You're letting me do magic when I'm not supposed to," Harry reminded him.

"There's a difference between casting a few spells here and there and becoming an illegal Animagus. What are you doing up so late, anyway?"

"Couldn't sleep," Harry said with a shrug. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I couldn't sleep either." Shaking his head, he said, "It seems so unreal sometimes. That I'm not in Azkaban anymore."

"I keep thinking I'm going to wake up and find out you're still after me," Harry said matter-of-factly. "That, or I'll be ten and at the Dursleys, and not a wizard at all."

"You're here, though. It's all real," Sirius reassured him. "And I'm here. We're not at the Dursleys or in Azkaban anymore."

Harry nodded and hunched forward, folding his legs underneath him. "Thanks for letting me stay with you, Sirius."

Sirius patted him on the back and looked up at the sky. The trees blocked some of the stars, but a large chunk of the night sky was still visible. In Azkaban the clouds had blocked the stars at all times. Every so often everything felt so intensely _real_, and at times like these Sirius felt as though he was going to be washed away by it all. Everything was so open and free, and after twelve years in a tiny cell with no company aside from the Dementors it was enough to render him speechless.

"You were good at pranks, right?" Harry asked, oblivious. "Maybe you could teach me some. I won't _do _any of them, but it'll be fun to beat the twins at their own game once in a while..."

"Sure," Sirius responded once he'd found his voice. It came out a bit more high pitched than he'd intended, but Harry didn't seem to notice. "Not tomorrow, though. Dumbledore's dropping by to make sure we've settled in."

Sirius always felt like a boy at Hogwarts when he was around Dumbledore. Then again, he still felt as though he was in his early twenties, so it really wasn't that strange a feeling. It was only when he caught the occasional glimpse of himself in the mirror that Sirius realized just how much time had passed. It wasn't a pleasant feeling- he hadn't seen his reflection at all during those twelve years in Azkaban, and the first time he saw himself upon escaping he'd been horrified. He still avoided looking in mirrors.

"No problem. We have the whole summer," Harry said with a shrug. Glancing up, he frowned at the wind and said, "D'you think it's going to rain?"

Sirius nodded. His heart rate had gone down a bit and he was beginning to feel a bit closer to normal. "Yeah. We should go inside, it looks like it's going to be a big one- the trees weren't swaying that hard before."

"I hope it'll be over by tomorrow," Harry said as they walked in to the kitchen. "I was planning on flying..."

Closing the door behind them, Sirius said, "Well, even if it doesn't, it'll pass eventually."

Harry nodded and they both started upstairs together as the first raindrops began to fall.


	2. Flight

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.  
**

* * *

_Chapter Two:_

The small, normally somewhat sleepy house was filled with people, most of them redheaded. It had been Remus's idea to have the housewarming party, and after a week of it just being Sirius and Harry, it seemed strange for the house to be so crowded. Sirius didn't mind, however- it was nice to see it being lived in. He still had trouble thinking of it as his house, mainly because he'd never had a house of his own before now.

Glancing at the clock, Sirius was surprised to see that it was nearly evening, and he weaved his way around the Weasley twins on his way to the kitchen, a stack of empty plates in each hand.

"There you are," Arthur said, clapping him on the back as he placed the dishes in the sink. "I just spoke with Gilbert Wimple earlier today- he spoke with Bletchley, and if all goes well I should have the tickets by early August."

"Yeah?" Sirius asked, turning to face him. "That's great, thanks! I'm really looking forward to it; I haven't been to a Quidditch game in years."

Technically he'd been present for Harry's game in his third year when the Dementors had swarmed the field, but he'd been a dog at the time and as a result only vaguely aware of how the game was played, so he tended not to count that.

"It's looking to be one for the record books," Arthur said, smiling. Sirius hadn't known he was a fan of Quidditch. "The Bulgarian Seeker is supposed to be excellent, but Ireland has the better Chasers of the two teams."

"Really? I thought Ireland had miserable Chasers. Remember that game when the Lithuanians won 510 to 40 and McDonnell flew into the goalposts twice?"

"Three times, actually. But that was back in the seventies," Arthur said. "They've improved ever since they traded Thompson, remember?"

They both paused, and before Sirius could answer, Arthur's face flushed and he said, "Ah, I suppose you wouldn't remember."

"I'm a bit of a blank when it comes to most things past 1981," Sirius admitted. "I've been trying to catch up, but there's just so much I haven't been around for..."

Arthur shook his head and leaned against the kitchen counter to let Percy pass. "It's a shame, it really is."

Sirius wondered just what Arthur had had to say about him just a year before. Hell, what what he had to say about him even a few months ago? He'd been all but the bogeyman to the rest of the world, second only to Voldemort in pure evil. Now here he was chatting with someone who had thought him a vicious murderer about how it was all such a shame. He'd imagined conversations like this while he was on the run- it kept him sane a good chunk of the time- but actually having them made him feel almost as if he was dreaming.

"Yeah, I guess it is, but all you can do is just keep moving forward, I suppose," Sirius said, wondering how it was so easy to say it and yet so difficult to actually follow his own advice. "Anyway, how has it been at the Ministry, Arthur?"

Arthur shrugged and said, "The same as always. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement has relaxed considerably now that they're not hunting you down, but beyond that it hasn't changed much."

"Still filled with power hungry idiots then?" Sirius quickly added, "Not you, of course."

Arthur cracked a smile and, as the noise around them made it difficult to hold a one-on-one conversation, they walked into the empty dining room. It was roughly the same size as the kitchen, and Sirius was certain he'd never spent more than five minutes in it.

"The Ministry has its share of... _idiots_, yes," Arthur said with a smile. "But it's changed quite a bit since the days of the war. You might want to think of looking for a job there- they're always hiring, and while you most likely won't make a fortune, it's not particularly difficult work."

A job? Sirius hadn't really thought much about working- he hadn't really thought more than a week in the future at a time. But maybe Arthur had a point. After all, he couldn't live off of his savings forever. His parents hadn't left him any money, but James's parents had, and that had kept him going for his first few months of freedom. That money would eventually run out, though, and even small houses cost money to upkeep. But still, the Ministry? Sirius had never been a fan of the Ministry, even before he'd been sent to Azkaban without a trial, and he imagined he would be miserable there. To move upward the slightest bit involved copious brown nosing, and Sirius didn't think he had that in him.

"I suppose I haven't thought much about it," he said after a moment. "But I don't think I'd fit in there."

"Well," Arthur said, taking a seat at the never-before-used dining room table, "What do you like to do?"

"Erm. I like animals," Sirius said after a moment. "And flying, though I doubt any Quidditch team would take me on at my age... I like the outdoors, too."

"You know," Arthur said, smiling at the thought, "I've heard that the _Prophet_ is looking for a local Quidditch correspondent now that they're splitting national and international coverage. I don't have any connections with them, but I don't doubt they'd give you a chance- your name would sell papers, after all."

"I don't have any experience," Sirius started, then paused. "Well... I did write pamphlets every now and then during the war. Nothing serious, just little funny blurbs to keep spirits up. The rest of the Order seemed to like them..."

"It's certainly worth a try," Arthur agreed.

A Quidditch correspondent- Sirius couldn't believe he'd never thought of it. He wasn't a fabulous writer, but he had a firm grasp on the rules of grammar and spelling, and besides that, he loved Quidditch. And it wasn't as though he'd be in an office all day; he'd be going to Quidditch games and interviewing the players and their managers. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded like the best job ever.

Still, the _Daily Prophet_ hadn't been especially kind to him- but at the same time, there had been a full front page article devoted to his acquittal and how the justice system had failed him. Not that Rita Skeeter hadn't had her own interpretation, but she was like the mold that turned up in even the nicest of places. He could deal with her. Would his lack of experience be a problem? He could probably scrounge together a few of the old pamphlets, but that might not be enough. The _Prophet_ might hire him, but there was no promise he wouldn't become an unpaid intern for the next ten years.

"Thanks, Arthur. I'll have to look into that." Sirius straightened himself up slightly. With a smile, he added, "And if all else fails, I'll just run for Minister."

* * *

Harry paused in front of the sink, looking for a place to deposit his plate. It was full, as was the counter top. Reaching for his wand, he tried to remember the spell Sirius had taught him several days ago. After a moment's thought it came to him, and he said, "_Aguamenti!_"

A clear jet of water erupted from the tip of his wand, rinsing the worst of the residue off the plate. Someone behind him cleared their throat loudly, and Harry turned to see Mrs. Weasley standing directly behind him.

"Oh," he said, trying to think of an excuse as quickly as possible. Failing, he instead said, "Hi."

Before Mrs. Weasley could say anything, Sirius and Mr. Weasley walked in from the dining room. Mrs. Weasley turned to Sirius and said, "I do hope you're not allowing Harry to perform magic- it _is_ forbidden over the holidays."

Mr. Weasley passed by without a word, and gave Harry a sympathetic smile on his way to the back garden, where almost everyone else had migrated for dessert.

"Ah, yeah," Sirius said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "The way I look at it, he's getting good practice, and at least it's in a controlled environment- Harry, what spell did you use?"

"_Aguamenti_," Harry said, flushing slightly at the disapproving look Mrs. Weasley gave him.

"That's a sixth year spell," Sirius said proudly. "See? Like I said, it's good practice-"

"I doubt Professor Dumbledore or the Ministry would think of it the same way." Mrs. Weasley folded her arms. "Those stories of children blowing limbs off aren't to be taken lightly, Sirius-"

"I highly doubt Harry's going to blow his limbs off with a stream of water, Molly."

"Look," Harry cut in. "I'm sorry- I'll stop using magic until I go back to school, all right?"

"Thank you, Harry." Mrs. Weasley smiled at him, and added, "You're very sensible."

Sirius smiled as well- Harry knew that he knew him well enough to know that he was only saying it for Mrs. Weasley's sake. And he _would_ be more careful about only using magic when Sirius was around.

"I'm going to get my broom, all right?" he said, starting for the living room, where the stairs were located. "I promised Ron he could give the Firebolt a try."

He'd made it halfway up the stairs when he heard his name in the middle of Sirius and Mrs. Weasley otherwise hushed conversation. He paused, trying not to let curiosity get the best of him, but found that his legs were moving back downstairs of their own accord. Sitting on the bottom step so he wouldn't be seen, Harry craned his head toward the archway leading to the kitchen and kept as quiet as possible.

"...to remember that he's young and impressionable," Mrs. Weasley was saying quietly. "He's a good boy, and very kindhearted, but you can't let him take advantage of you-"

"Molly, it was my idea to let him use magic," Sirius said. Harry heard a chair scrape against the floor, followed by a faint grunt as Sirius sat in it. "It's like I said, it's a controlled environment. And Harry's a good kid; he isn't going to blow up the house."

"Not _intentionally_."

"Molly-"

"He needs a role model," Mrs. Weasley said, slightly louder, before lowering her voice once again. "I don't doubt that you care for him greatly, but he's thirteen years old. You need to set rules-"

"He's nearly fourteen," Sirius said, not bothering to lower his voice now. "And he's very mature. Thank you for the advice, but I think I know my godson well enough."

"You've known him for a few months. Arthur and I have known him for almost three years, and-"

"The Dursleys knew him for thirteen years, and look how well-"

"Arthur and I have known him for almost three years," Molly repeated, ignoring Sirius's interruption, "And while he's a wonderful boy, he has managed to get into quite a bit of trouble unsupervised."

"He hasn't been in that much trouble," Sirius said dismissively. "Trust me, I was much worse when I was fourteen."

"And look where you ended up!"

There was a long silence, and then Sirius said, "I suppose it was my fault I was framed, then. I guess I-"

"I'm sorry," Mrs. Weasely cut in. Her voice uncharacteristically soft, she said, "That was unfair of me. I didn't mean to imply anything of the sort. I only... I care a great deal about Harry; Arthur and I consider him another son. I care about you as well, and I only have your best interests at heart..."

"Yeah, well..." Sirius sighed, and Harry could picture him starting to run a hand through his hair, expecting for it to be long and tangled and instead finding his newer, closely cropped cut. "I know you do. But I have everything under control. Trust me."

Mrs. Weasley's voice grew faint as her footsteps traveled in the direction of the back door. "I'm always here to lend an ear or advice if you need it."

"Oh, I don't doubt that," Sirius said, so low that Harry barely heard. He didn't think Mrs. Weasley did, and if she did hear she didn't say anything. In a slightly more sincere tone, Sirius added, "Thank you, Molly."

Harry had just risen to his feet when the back door closed and Sirius pushed his chair back. He'd made it halfway up the stairs when Sirius called after him, "I can hear you, you know."

Harry winced and came back downstairs. Hovering over the threshold between the living room and the kitchen, he said, "Sorry. Are you angry?"

Sirius waved a hand dismissively. "Nah. I'd have done the same thing."

"Thanks for standing up for me," Harry said, knowing Mrs. Weasley meant well but appreciating Sirius's defense of him all the same. "And I'll be careful to only use magic when no one else is around from now on."

"Thanks," Sirius said, and he smiled slightly as he shook his head. "I can't help but laugh at the idea of me setting rules and all that."

"So, there aren't any, then?" Harry asked. They hadn't discussed the matter before, and until now he hadn't thought much about it. "Rules, I mean?"

"Well, no, not really," Sirius said. He waved his wand and the dishes in the sink began to wash themselves. "Just don't stay out all night, don't act like an arsehole, and don't blow up the house. Though I suppose those are general life rules, aren't they?"

Harry grinned. "I can live with that. You're awesome, Sirius."

"I try," Sirius said, waggling his eyebrows and smiling. "Now, didn't you say you were getting your Firebolt?"

"Right! I forgot." Harry started for the stairs once more and, not for the first time, thought about how grateful he was not to be living with the Dursleys any longer.

* * *

Sirius strode outside, trying to keep from appearing outwardly agitated. Where did Molly get off telling him how to treat Harry? As far as he was concerned, Harry had done a damn good job at taking care of himself. He'd been raised by the Dursleys of all people, and he was remarkably well adjusted. It wasn't his place to raise him, and as far as Sirius was concerned, he already _was_ raised. Treating Harry like a young child was ridiculous- it would be like setting rules for James.

"Oi, Sirius," Fred said as he passed one of the picnic tables that had been set up. "Have you got a moment?"

"Yeah. What is it?" Sirius asked, taking a deep breath and pushing Molly's meddling out of his head.

Fred and George got to their feet and motioned for Sirius to join them several feet away where they wouldn't be heard.

"So," George said. He glanced and Fred, then went on. "We hear from Harry that you used to be a bit of a... _prankster_ back at Hogwarts."

Sirius smiled- saying that he had been a 'bit' of a prankster was like saying Peeves was only 'slightly' chaotic. "Yeah, you could say that. What about it?"

"My brother and I are working on a private business," Fred said, rubbing his hands together. "The ultimate goal is to own a joke shop, but small steps and all that."

"We were wondering if you would be interested in becoming our first sponsor." Together, the twins glanced in the direction of their mother, who was too busy speaking with Percy to pay them any mind. "Mum wouldn't need to know, of course."

"That depends," Sirius said, intrigued despite his best efforts to remain stoic. "What kinds of products would you be selling? And to whom?"

"Joke products, mostly," George said, and he nodded at Fred to elaborate.

"Yeah, for Hogwarts students. We're finishing up work on the Ton-Tongue Toffee." Fred's eyes lit up as he explained how the sweet worked, and Sirius couldn't help but be a bit impressed. The twins were quite talented from the sound if it- a lot of work seemed to have gone into the inner workings of the project, especially when it came to the extent of trial and error they'd already worked through.

"You might want to add a bit of fluxweed," Sirius suggested once they'd finished their spiel, leaning against a tree and watching Harry kick off into the air- he'd have to get a turn or two with the broom later on, before it got dark. "Just a small amount. It'll counteract the worst effects so there's no risk of lasting damage."

Fred and George nodded in unison. Approvingly, George said, "That would work- thanks, Sirius. And about that sponsorship..."

"I'll have to think about it," Sirius said. After all, he was unemployed and had to conserve his money until he found a job. That, and the last thing he needed was Molly pounding down his door and hexing him into a newt. Then again, it was his sworn duty as a Marauder to encourage and help any budding prankster... "How about you work on ironing out the kinks when it comes to the toffee, then come back to me and we'll talk?"

Fred raised an eyebrow at George, who nodded. "You have a deal."

Sirius shook both the hands that were subsequently offered to him and said, "It's good to know that Hogwarts is still occupied by those devoted to the art of the practical joke. Harry told me you were the ones who gave him the Marauder's Map."

"We did," George said with a nod. "The Marauders helped us many a time when hiding from Filch. And the passageways they managed to discover- geniuses, the lot of them."

"I wouldn't say _geniuses_." Sirius laughed, enjoying the flattery all the same, and added, "Though it was a lot of hard work, don't get me wrong."

"Hold it," Fred said, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. "Hold it. You're not saying..."

"You couldn't be..."

Sirius blinked once, in surprise. "What, a Marauder? I assumed Harry told you- I'm Padfoot." Noting the twins' incredulous expressions, he asked, "He really didn't say anything about it?"

The twins gaped at him open mouthed, then at each other, then at him again before dropping to their knees and pretending to grovel at his feet. George stood up and grabbed his hand, shaking it more vigorously this time. "You, sir, are a hero-"

"An inspiration to us all-"

"A _hero_," George repeated. "A national hero-"

"An _international_ hero-"

"A _universal _hero-"

"Will you adopt us?"

Sirius laughed- he liked these two. They'd have certainly fit in with the Marauders, and it was nice to meet someone who wasn't constantly encouraging him to grow up. Even Remus had somehow transformed into the sort of rule abiding adult they'd both hated so much as teenagers. "Your mum and dad might have something to say about that."

"Ah, well," George said. "It was worth a shot, wasn't it? But you have to tell us how you did it- we tried to create our own version of the map and failed miserably."

"We want details," Fred agreed, nodding. "And who were the others? Prongs was always the best at insults-"

"And Moony gave the best advice when it came to secret passages-"

"Well, Prongs was James," Sirius said, and all at once the old memories began to wash over him. Hiding from Filch; planting dungbombs around the perimeter of the Great Hall just before dinner; charming the suits of armor to sing dirty songs- "Harry's father. And Moony was Remus."

"Remus? _That_ Remus? As in Remus Lupin?" Fred gestured at Remus, then shook his head, but he continued to grin all the same. "You have to be joking. He gave us detention six times last year. Are you sure _he's_ Moony?"

"Pretty sure, yeah." Sirius rolled his eyes and smiled. "Remus! Come over here, would you?"

Remus was speaking with Arthur, and he held up a single finger as a signal to wait a moment. As he approached, he seemed to take in the slightly awed expressions of Fred and George and Sirius's own grin. Almost suspiciously, he asked, "All right, what's going on here?"

Sirius clapped him on the back and said, "I was just telling Fred and George here about our days as Marauders-"

"You're our hero," Fred cut in. "We never thought we'd actually meet you-"

"And to think you were right there for nearly a year and we had no idea-"

Remus's lips thinned and he cleared his throat. In an unnatural, stiff sounding voice he said, "Yes, well, that was a very long time ago. Sirius, can I have a word with you?"

Bloody hell, what had he done wrong this time? Remus always seemed to find _something_ to disapprove of, no matter how small, and it was with a small sigh that he said, "Yeah, sure. Fred, George, I'll talk with you later, then?"

"Absolutely," George said, and as they walked back toward the picnic table he called over his shoulder, "A universal hero!"

Sirius turned to Remus, who had folded his arms and was giving him a hard look. "Oh, come on. So I told them that you're Moony. It's not that big a-"

"That was a long time ago, Sirius," Remus said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't regret any of it, but I'd rather you not announce from the rooftops the sorts of trouble I got myself into years and years ago!"

"Lighten up, I'm not shouting it from the rooftops; it's just the twins. They're all right; you know that-"

"They're impressionable," Remus cut in. He began to pace back and forth, glancing up only when Harry shot past on the Firebolt. "They're incredibly bright and they can do so much more than just... just joke around like we did."

"_Impressionable_," Sirius repeated. The word felt unnatural as he said it, and he wrinkled his nose. "There's that damn word again, _impressionable_. I can understand it coming from Molly, but not from you. Since when did you get so _old__?_"

"I grew up, Sirius." Remus put a hand on Sirius's shoulder, clearly putting an effort into keeping his voice somewhat soothing, but not fully succeeding. "I know it's been rough on you, spending so much of your life in Azkaban, but you need to understand that we're adults now."

Sirius disagreed- in his mind, he was only as old as he felt, and he didn't feel very old at all. Maybe he was an adult, but he didn't need to transform into the exact opposite as he'd been as a child. "I already understand that we're adults. I own a house, I'm in charge of Harry's well being, and I'm going to look for a job soon. I'm thirty-_four_. Seems pretty adult to me-"

"You know what I mean!" Remus said a little too loudly. Ginny and Hermione glanced in their direction, momentarily distracted from their game of chess, and he gave them a strained smile before turning back to Sirius. "I'll never regret being a Marauder, and you'll always be my closest friend, but it's not the seventies anymore. I have a new life, and I'm not ready to advertise my old one to my former students."

"Fine," Sirius said, just wanting to shut him up. Remus was stubborn, and he knew he wouldn't convince him of anything once his mind had been made. "We'll agree to disagree."

"Fine," Remus agreed, and they both relaxed the smallest amount. "It's better than arguing with someone whose mind is made up."

"Describing yourself again, Moony?"

Remus didn't say a word and instead walked over to the picnic table without any further comment. Forcing himself not to follow and continue the argument, Sirius watched as Harry landed and dismounted from his broom before handing it off to Ron, who kicked off so hard he yelped when he shot up more quickly than he'd expected. He wondered if Ron would ever grow up and want to put his childhood behind him, and if the twins would do the same. Would he have done the same if he hadn't gone to prison? Sirius hoped not. He liked being himself, and he didn't want to grow up if it meant becoming straight laced like Remus, as much as he cared for his friend.

Following him to the picnic table, he said, "Look, let's not fight. I'm sorry I snapped at you. Are we all right?"

Remus let out a small, barely audible laugh. "Yeah, we're all right, Sirius."

"Good," Sirius said. "Because you're one of the only friends I have left."

Neither of them said anything further on the matter, and Sirius quickly pushed the whole thing from his mind. Life was too short to worry about disagreements and small arguments, especially when so much of it had been lost already.

* * *

The sun had finally finished setting after a long, lazy day of doing nothing. Harry had spent half an hour in the morning working on his Charms homework before deciding he was in no mood to do schoolwork. He much preferred playing a few games of Gobstones with Sirius, followed by learning how to cast a rudimentary shield charm.

"I'm going out for a fly, all right?" he said, poking his head into Sirius's room. "I'll be back later."

Sirius lowered his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. "Sure. Have a good time."

"I will," Harry called over his shoulder as he headed back to his own room to retrieve the Firebolt.

Until now, he hadn't done much exploring, at least not extensively. He and Sirius had traversed the general area around the house, but he was beginning to wonder just what was in the distance. Once he was in the air, Harry continued to fly higher and higher up until he saw the stream he'd heard when he'd first arrived at the house. He flew until he was directly over it, and then began to fly north. The trees grew thicker and denser the further he went, forcing him to slow down after several minutes.

Eventually the stream ended and he reached a pond, and when he landed Harry found that water was clear and pure. Maybe he'd go swimming one day. He'd never learned how, but he doubted Sirius would mind teaching him.

Everything was still; no car alarms or Dudley snoring or arguments down the street. Lying flat on his back, Harry closed his eyes and breathed in the scent of pine needles and dirt. Tomorrow, he decided, he would come back with Sirius. They would have a picnic, and then they would practice more spells. Maybe Sirius would show him the basics of swimming. It wouldn't take that long to reach the pond- about half an hour by foot, he estimated.

Maybe Sirius would tell him more about his parents- he'd already learned that his father had been a prankster and had been in love with his mother ever since they'd first met on the Hogwarts Express. Meanwhile, his mother had repelled his every advance until seventh year, when, as Sirius put it, James pulled his head out of his arse. They sounded like fun people to be around, and Harry wished now more than ever that he'd been able to get to know them. Being able to put personalities to faces suddenly made them seem all the more real.

What had his father been like when he was fourteen? What had his mother been like? Had they ever imagined their lives would end so quickly? Had Sirius ever imagined he'd be accused of betraying them? And Wormtail, had he ever imagined that-

Harry shuddered involuntarily. He couldn't quite get that image out of his head, the one of the Dementor lowering its hood and bending over Pettigrew and-

He hated Pettigrew. It was because of Pettigrew that his parents were dead and he'd had to live with the Dursleys. But his soul... his soul was just _gone_. The idea that someone's soul could be completely and irreparably destroyed was enough to make Harry's heart race and his skin grow clammy. What would that be like? Just to _vanish_ from existence and never, ever come back?

Opening his eyes, Harry sat up and shook his head firmly. He wouldn't think about that, because there was nothing he could do about it. When his heartbeat didn't immediately slow down, he mounted his broom and began to fly once more. Flying was always a comfort, and after about half an hour of determinedly thinking about something, _anything_ else he found himself breathing evenly once again.

It was getting late. The moon had been out for a few hours at the very least, and Harry guessed that it was approaching midnight. He'd have to head back soon- he didn't want to worry Sirius. Still, he had some time, and he knew Sirius wouldn't mind him being out late. His surroundings were wonderfully peaceful, and Harry soared through the night air, trying to reach that point where everything became a blur. He was well above the treetops, so he had no fears of hitting a tree, and after a moment he found that he was going fast enough for everything to just begin to lose their distinct shapes.

Maybe he'd invite Ron and Hermione over for part of the summer. His birthday was in two weeks, and he doubted Sirius would mind two more mouths to feed. He and Ron and Hermione weren't much trouble, either. They didn't need to be looked after. He'd have to be careful using magic around Hermione, though. Ron wouldn't mind- in fact, he'd probably join him- but Hermione would nag them mercilessly until they all but snapped their wands in two to satisfy her.

Harry dove toward the stream, and did a corkscrew before pulling back up into the air. He'd be in perfect shape for Quidditch this year. Maybe Gryffindor would win the Quidditch Cup again- he'd love to see the face on Snape's face if that happened. Grinning at the mental image that came forth, Harry dove once more. He had to get some practice in if he wanted it to become a reality.

* * *

Sirius wasn't especially concerned when Harry didn't come back at midnight. He'd gone out flying late before, and besides, he was always careful to be quiet when going to his room to avoid disturbing anyone. At twelve thirty he began to wonder what was keeping him so long, and by the time it was one in the morning he officially began to worry. Harry was low maintenance- he didn't have to worry about him setting a pack of Nogtails loose in the kitchen, and he wasn't the type to stay out all night either.

The woods around the house were safe, and the wards were strong, but Sirius found himself thinking of all the various ways Harry might have injured himself. Had he fallen off his broom and broken something? Was he lying in pain on the ground right this second? Sirius grabbed his wand and hurried downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. It wasn't like Harry to stay out so late; something must have happened to him.

Wishing he had a broom of his own, Sirius started across the back garden and, hopefully, called out, "Harry? Are you there?"

There was no answer. Sirius had just started into the woods when he had an idea. Turning back toward the house, he hoped with all his might that Hedwig wasn't out flying tonight. He'd never find Harry at a quarter past one in the middle of the woods, and owls were nearly always able to deliver a letter. To his relief, Hedwig was napping in her cage, a half-eaten rat below her perch.

"Hey, Hedwig, I need you to do me a favor," Sirius said, reaching for a piece of parchment and a quill. "Deliver this to Harry, would you?"

The note was short- _Are you all right? Send up sparks if you can't get back home_. Hedwig let out a half asleep, somewhat annoyed hoot but soared out the window all the same. If Harry didn't come back or send a signal in ten minutes he was going to go searching for him.

Sirius went back downstairs and sat at the back step. If something had happened to Harry, it would be his fault. He had condemned James and Lily to their deaths with his own stupidity, and now Harry? Sirius felt the urge to transform just as he always did when everything became too much to deal with, but this time he knew he couldn't. Instead, he rose to his feet and began to pace, and when Hedwig flew back in the direction of the house, his stomach sank. Harry wasn't following her, and no sparks had been sent.

He'd just begun to stride back toward the woods when he heard a faint _whoosh_ overhead. Harry landed several feet away from the back door, note in hand, looking vaguely bewildered. "Sirius?"

Sirius let out a deep sigh of relief and hurried toward his godson. "Are you all right?"

"I'm _fine_," Harry said blankly. "I was just getting in some Quidditch practice."

Closing his eyes and rubbing his forehead, Sirius leaned against the outer wall of the house. He was all right. He was all right- he wasn't hurt. Now instead of being worried, Sirius felt himself starting to become angry. "What the hell is _wrong_ with you?"

Harry gaped at him. "What? What did I do? I was just flying; I _told _you I was going out flying-"

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I dunno," Harry said, shrugging. "Midnight, maybe? I was about to head back, anyway."

Sirius could hear his own voice become sarcastic without any effort on his part, and he said, "Maybe I should use a permanent sticking charm to fuse a watch to your wrist. It's almost one thirty."

Harry cringed slightly, then laughed in embarrassment. "Really? I'm sorry, Sirius, I really didn't know-"

"I was worried about you!" he cut in, feeling his anger grow at Harry's laughter, embarrassed or not. "It's common courtesy not to worry someone like that-"

"Calm down, would you?" Harry asked. His voice went slightly high and he said, "It's no big deal. And I thought you said there weren't any rules-"

"There's a difference between not having rules and being an inconsiderate git!" Sirius shouted. Harry reared back automatically and Sirius struggled to keep his voice low when he spoke again. "Look. I... I treat you like a housemate, all right? I'm new at this godfather thing, you know that. I'm not going to set you a curfew or anything like that, but I trust you to use your own judgment on things like these."

"It was an _accident_," Harry muttered, pushing past him to go inside. As Sirius followed, he said, "And I apologized. Will you lay off already?"

"I'm being nice," Sirius warned him. When Harry tried to go further into the house, he grabbed his arm and added, "Don't test me."

"What are you going to do, then?" he shot back, yanking his arm free and taking a tone Sirius had never heard from him before. "Send me to my room?"

Sirius took a deep breath- for the first time he was tempted to, just to end the argument. But no, he couldn't do that- Harry was his friend; they were equals. He couldn't send him to his room, because then he would be like Molly and Remus. He would be _old_. It would be like... like sending _James_ to his room- completely ludicrous.

"I never should have bought you that bloody thing in the first place," he finally said, nodding at the Firebolt.

Harry glanced at the broom in his hand, then back at Sirius. "Yeah, well, I think I liked it more when you were trying to kill me."

He couldn't do this anymore. If he kept the conversation up he'd completely lose it, and his head was pounding hard enough already. Rubbing his forehead again, Sirius glared at Harry, who glared right back at him. "Sod off, why don't you?"

Harry muttered something under his breath and stalked upstairs, slamming the door behind him. Sirius made his way to his own room across the hall, and slammed his door as well.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Sirius found that he couldn't sit still. He rose to his feet and began to pace instead. Who did Harry think he was? He'd had every right to be worried when he hadn't come home. It was common courtesy not to stay out all night without mentioning it. All right, maybe he'd yelled a bit, but he'd been justified- it wasn't just because Harry was young. He'd have reacted the same way had it been Remus or anyone else.

Molly and Remus couldn't be right. He and Harry had a decent arrangement, and if they argued now and then, well, all friends argued, didn't they?

An odd sort of unease had settled in Sirius's stomach, and for a moment he wondered if it was such a good idea to act as though Harry was older than his age. But he was a good kid, and the idea of doing parental things like setting bedtimes and grounding him was beyond ridiculous. Harry would just laugh in his face if he tried it. Besides, Sirius was far from an adult himself. It would be like... well, again, like telling off James.

Sirius wished he could be like Mr. Potter- he'd been perfect when he'd let Sirius move in after he ran away from home. He'd never treated him like a child and he'd been a friend instead of an authority figure. Whenever Sirius did something wrong, Mr. Potter didn't shout at him. Instead, he sat with him and they talked it over until the matter was resolved. It was like talking man-to-man, and it was exactly the sort of relationship Sirius wished to emulate with Harry.

Of course, Sirius had always been willing to listen.

Sirius stepped out of his room and paused outside Harry's door. "Can I come in?"

"Go away," Harry said loudly.

"I don't want to fight. Can we just talk?" Sirius leaned against the wall and added, "Man-to-man."

"Go _away_," Harry repeated.

Sirius opened the door anyway and walked in. "Look, like I said, I'm not looking to fight. All right?"

Harry was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He shot Sirius a glare as he got to his feet. "Then leave me alone, why don't you?"

"I don't want to act like... like a dad to you," Sirius said, taking a step back and pausing in the doorway. "That's not my place, and as far as I'm concerned you're my friend before anything else."

"Then why wouldn't you just accept my apology?" Harry asked. He sat back on his bed and leaned against the wall. "You know I didn't stay out that late on purpose."

"It's _b__ecause_ you're my friend." Sirius sat next to him and said, "Wouldn't you have been worried if the roles had been switched?"

"I would have listened to what you had to say," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, well, we're all human, aren't we?"

Harry didn't say anything straight away, instead busying himself by staring at his lamp. Finally, he said, "I really didn't mean to worry you."

"I know you didn't." Sirius patted Harry somewhat awkwardly on the shoulder and said, "We'll be all right. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know." Harry relaxed slightly and gave him a small, slightly strained smile. "I'm going to try to get some sleep."

Sirius nodded and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He already knew he wouldn't be sleeping tonight, and as he headed into his bedroom he transformed into a dog and hopped onto the bed. It was going to be a long night.


	3. Quidditch

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

_Chapter Three:_

Harry lay flat on his back and watched the Quidditch figures on the ceiling zoom about as they played their game. One Seeker had just spotted the Snitch, and he immediately dipped into a steep dive after it, narrowly missing a Bludger. He'd just stretched out his hand to catch the tiny golden ball- Harry could see his fingers brush against it- when the second Bludger caught him from behind and sent him sprawling on the ground.

It was several minutes past midnight, making him officially fourteen.

Before turning eleven Harry hadn't cared much about his birthday. While Dudley's had involved extravagant outings and presents piled practically to the ceiling, his own were barely acknowledged. Why celebrate a date that only meant he was a year closer to being kicked out? Not that he enjoyed living with the Dursleys, but Uncle Vernon had always made it clear that the day he left school was the day he was expected to be out of the house. Where would he have gone? He hadn't known he'd had an inheritance back then, so adulthood was something equally liberating and frightening. He'd be free from the Dursleys, but what then?

Harry used to wonder why the Dursleys even bothered giving him presents on his birthday, but now he suspected that it was to emphasize just how much they despised him. After all, nothing said 'I love you' quite like a pair of old socks and a coat hanger. He hadn't told Sirius about that, just as he hadn't told him about the cupboard. Sirius was... well, he was Sirius. Harry could just picture him Apparating to 4 Privet Drive and hexing its inhabitants into toads if he had a clue as to just how awful they'd been to his godson, and the last thing either of them needed was for him to go back to Azkaban.

Besides, he hadn't spoken with many people about the Dursleys, and even then he didn't say much. Ron and Hermione knew his aunt uncle had spoiled Dudley and treated him poorly, and most of the others in his year at school knew he didn't get along well with his relatives, but he'd never elaborated much on it. No one knew that he'd lived in the cupboard under the stairs, because what good would that do? They'd probably load heaps of attention on him, something Harry actively avoided, and he could only imagine the joy with which Malfoy would go about continually reminding him and everyone else just how unwanted he was.

Harry rolled onto his side and closed his eyes, trying to will himself asleep. He knew it was useless, and that he was just going to be lying there uselessly for hours. He wouldn't have minded going for a night fly, but he'd cut back on that ever since he'd argued with Sirius not so long ago.

He honestly hadn't meant to be out for as long as he had. He'd known it was late, but he wouldn't have pegged it as being any later than twelve thirty. And he'd said he was sorry- why hadn't Sirius accepted his apology? He was his mate, not one of his professors. It was almost as though Ron had suddenly transformed into Mrs. Weasley. It was all right when she was angry, because she was... well, she was Mrs. Weasley. She was allowed to be like that because it was just how she was. When he argued with Ron it was different, because he was his mate. One was an adult, and one was his friend. After their fight, Harry wasn't sure which of the two Sirius intended to be.

It didn't matter now, though. It had been two weeks since the argument and since then they hadn't fought at all. It was like Sirius had said- they would be all right.

There was a light knock at the door, and Harry got to his feet just as Sirius poked his head in. "Good, you're up. I thought you'd be."

"Hey," Harry said. "Yeah, I am. Don't you _ever_ sleep?"

Sirius waved a hand dismissively, but even in the dim light produced by Harry's lamp the dark circles under his eyes were obvious. "Never mind me. Happy birthday."

"Thanks," Harry said, accepting the wrapped package Sirius held out for him. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"It's your birthday, you idiot." Sirius shook his head at him, still smiling, and sat on his bed. Crossing his legs underneath him, he added, "It's not quite on the same level as the Firebolt, I'm afraid. Just warning you in advance."

"Well, the Firebolt was thirteen years worth of presents," Harry reassured him, tearing the Snitch-adorned wrapping paper away to reveal a small, portable mirror. Not sure how to respond, he said after a moment, "Er, thanks Sirius. It's great."

Sirius laughed and retrieved an identical mirror from one of the pockets in his robes. "You're an awful actor. They're two way mirrors. Your dad and I used to use them to talk when we were in detention, then after that once your parents had gone into hiding. The day after you were born he held you up to his mirror. You'd been crying, but when you saw me you stopped right away."

"Really?" Harry asked, peering into the mirror. He could see Sirius on the other end, and he lowered it to look at the flesh and blood version in front of him.

Sirius nodded. "Yeah. It was the first time I saw you. The first time we met in person was a day or two later. You spit up on me, and your parents called both of us Pukey for nearly a month after."

Harry laughed. He could hardly imagine his parents calling anyone 'Pukey', but then again, he didn't remember them at all. Still, it seemed more like something he or Ron would say than his own vague, hazy impressions of his parents. Even so, he'd always thought they were older than they really were, and they'd only been twenty when he'd been born, just six years older than he was now.

"Is it all right?" Sirius asked, breaking his train of thought. When he turned to look at him, he saw his godfather watching him with a concerned look on his face. "I thought maybe I was being cheap- I mean, it's not like it cost me anything, so I probably should have bought you something else as well-"

"It's perfect," he quickly cut in. "Sirius, I love it, really. I was just... thinking about my parents. And how they were young when they died."

Sirius's expression darkened, and he nodded. Harry worried he'd completely ruined the mood, and he was just about to apologize when Sirius began to speak.

"They were young. I never should have..." He trailed off and sighed heavily. Running a hand along the top of his hair, he said slowly and haltingly, "I never should have suspected Remus. If I had, you'd still have your parents and I'd still have two of my best mates."

"It's not your fault," Harry said, practically by reflex but meaning the words all the same. "You... you didn't know. You couldn't know. You were trying to do the right thing..."

Sirius pressed his fingers against his closed eyelids, almost as though he were trying to burrow them straight into his skull. Opening his eyes, he blinked several times, then said, "You're a lot like them, you know. Kind. Willing to see the best in people..." He shook his head suddenly and abruptly, saying, "Oi, ignore me. I'm not trying to turn your birthday into my own personal pity party."

Harry leaned over, not quite sure what to do, and placed a hand on Sirius's shoulder. "You're not."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Sirius gave him a small smile, patted him on the back, and, retrieving his mirror, rose to his feet. "I'm going to try and get some sleep. Tomorrow we'll head over to the Burrow around noon. If you're up earlier, maybe we'll go for a fly? We haven't in a while."

"That sounds great," Harry said, relaxing a bit. They hadn't flown since the housewarming party. Maybe things really were going back to normal. "I'm really glad I get to spend my birthday with you, Sirius."

His godfather smiled, genuinely this time, and paused in the doorway. "I'm glad you do too."

* * *

Barnabas Cuffe's office was large and comfortable, with an excellent view of Diagon Alley. Sirius doubted that most applicants were interviewed personally by the editor-in-chief of the _Daily Prophet_, but then again, he wasn't an ordinary applicant.

"Strange, the way things work out," Cuffe said, shaking his head with a laugh. "The things we had to say about you- I even wrote a few of the articles myself. Did you read the one where I called you a lunatic madman?"

"Not sure," Sirius said. He was slightly taken aback at how openly and casually Cuffe was talking about the subject, though Cuffe's joviality was so intense that it was nearly infectious. Unable to keep from smiling a bit, he added, "It's hard to narrow them all down; most of your newspaper's articles called me that at some point."

Cuffe held both hands in the air, an admission of guilt. "All with the best intentions of course. And my retraction- you can't have forgotten how I called you a hero that time around!"

He hadn't forgotten, but by the point that particular article was written Sirius hadn't given a damn what the _Prophet_ had to say about him. Not for the first time since he arrived at the headquarters of the newspaper, he wondered just what he was doing there. It was the _Daily Prophet_, for God's sake- they'd never had nice things to say about him.

Still, the old days were over, just as the war was over. And if he managed to get the job it wasn't as though he'd be sitting at a desk all day, bored out of his mind- he'd be watching Quidditch games and interviewing athletes. Even if the journalists at the _Prophet_ tended to be reactionary Ministry-worshiping idiots he wouldn't have be surrounded by them all the time. That, and it was better than actually working _for_ the Ministry.

"Deep in thought, Sirius?" Cuffe was smiling at him, but his gaze was quizzical.

Sirius shrugged, and said honestly, "It's all very strange, like you said. I never thought I'd be sitting here."

Cuffe leaned forward, and his demeanor changed silently but noticeably- Sirius was aware that the interview had begun. "Tell me, were you interested in journalism while at Hogwarts?"

"Not really," Sirius admitted. "To be honest, I was more focused on the war. It was pretty clear by sixth year that the war wouldn't be over next year, or the year after. So most of us just prepared ourselves for that first and careers second."

"You were a member of the resistance, were you not?" Cuffe didn't wait for him to answer, as it was already common knowledge that was the case. "You mentioned in your letter that you wrote pamphlets to... 'keep up spirits,' was it?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, reaching for the folder he'd brought along with him. Several flattened pieces of parchment with fading ink slipped out, and he handed them to Cuffe, who immediately began to read the one nearest the top. "They're not really pamphlets- not that sophisticated, really. Just... newsletters, I suppose. Meant to reassure people that things were all right, to get the news to them- that sort of thing."

Cuffe didn't say anything as he read, and after a moment had passed he looked up. "Not bad, considering your age at the time. You have a very distinct voice as well- that's always a good thing. It is unpolished, however, and amateurish. Not quite to the standard of _Daily Prophet_, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Sirius didn't know what he'd expected- after all, these were renowned journalists, and he'd just written some funny articles as a teenager. He knew perfectly well that he wasn't going to magically transform into a fantastic writer, but he had secretly imagined something along the lines of Cuffe being left speechless by what turned out to be one of the greatest written works of all time.

"I'm not saying it's bad," Cuffe told him, halfway through reading the second blurb. "In fact, I'm impressed; even today not many people are brave enough to mock You-Know-Who so directly, not even myself- I quite like your theories relating to his, erm, apparent lack of a nose..."

"Ah, yeah, I said something about an offended Diricawl, didn't I?"

"I'm not up to that yet, only the part where you suggest it was a game of 'Who Has Your Nose?' gone wrong." Cuffe shook his head, smiling. "Very forward, very direct... a little _too_ direct, perhaps, but You-Know-Who is long gone so there's no reason you'd be writing articles about him to begin with..."

Sirius paused, then asked, "So I've got the job, then?"

Cuffe laughed and placed the pieces of parchment onto the desk. "Forward, just like I said. I like that. I'll be honest with you- you're a decent writer from the small amount I've seen and you show promise, but you're not near the level we require from a correspondent just yet. Perhaps I could start you off slow- a small column, maybe, very short in length. People would love to read what the infamous Sirius Black has to say; you're a hot topic, after all."

"And I'd sell a lot of papers too," Sirius added, seeing where this was going.

"Forward and smart!" Cuffe reached for the cup on his desk and drained the remaining tea before continuing. "Exactly. It's a win-win for both of us. And once your skills have improved a bit, we'll talk again about Quidditch correspondent."

Sirius felt himself beginning to nod, but he caught himself and asked, "But what would I be writing about? And how often?"

"Anything, really. We'll give you a topic," Cuffe said casually. "And once a week sounds about right. You'll have a few days to write something, then I'll have an editor or two go over it with you. You'll get the hang of it soon enough."

"So..." Sirius repeated, "I've got the job, then?"

Cuffe smiled and held his hand out warmly. "You have a trial period. Your first few columns probably won't be published, but we'll pay you for them. Twenty galleons each, which, between the two of us, is far more than our usual starting pay."

Sirius shook his hand, noting how surreal it all seemed. He had a job, almost. He'd never had a job before. And a writing one- his parents would have absolutely hated that. Maybe he'd stop by the old house later today just to tell his mother's portrait.

Sirius and Cuffe left the latter's office together, only to find that more than half the workers present were hovering in the general vicinity.

"So, how'd it go?" a tall, scrawny man with unusually thin eyebrows asked. "Is he working with us?"

Cuffe gestured at Sirius with his left hand and said, slightly more dramatically than was really necessary, "You are looking at the _Daily Prophet's_ newest columnist-in-training!"

There was a general murmur of assent, and the same scrawny man clapped Sirius on the back. "Welcome, then- I'm Andy Smudgely. You're lucky, you know. Braithwaite and I had to intern and freelance for years before Cuffe actually gave us a salary."

It was all very casual here, wasn't it? Sirius didn't know what he'd expected, but it wasn't this. He'd read his share of articles condemning him as pure evil, and until now he hadn't thought much about the people who must have written them. For years they'd torn him to pieces; until just recently they'd torn him to pieces, and now here they were chatting with him as though they were best mates. He couldn't help but wonder if they would easily turn on him if the tide of public opinion turned against him once again. After all, just a few months ago he'd been a dangerous lunatic.

"Thanks," Sirius said, sticking out his hand. "I'll try not to blow you all up, but no promises."

Everyone laughed, and Sirius grinned- he couldn't make a joke like that anywhere else. People still stared at him on the street; parents still instinctively reached for their children... he was innocent, but that didn't change the past.

Sirius enjoyed being in control, and he hoped he wasn't doing something stupid, taking this job. But how would he explain it to the others? How could he explain how he felt when he could barely explain it to himself? Remus would just say what he always said, that he needed to put the past behind him and grow up. And if he hated the job and found that his coworkers were nothing more than a bunch of wankers, there was nothing stopping him from leaving. After all, he wasn't in his cell now, was he?

Maybe he didn't feel like much of an adult, but he could at least try and fake it for the moment.

* * *

Harry reached for his glass of juice and missed, slapping the table with his open palm instead. Sirius snickered from behind him, and he halfheartedly glared before reaching for the glass once more, this time succeeding.

"Tired?" Sirius asked, sitting across from him.

Harry nodded. He'd been up all night, but this time he at least had a reason- in a few minutes they'd be heading over to the Weasleys to make their way to the Quidditch World Cup.

"If it makes you feel better, I didn't sleep either."

"You never sleep," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I don't know how you're so awake now."

Sirius shrugged and reached into the box of cereal on the table. Popping a few Quaffle-O's into his mouth, he said, "I usually get a few hours in if I transform. I don't need much sleep."

"Were you always like that?" Harry asked. "Back at Hogwarts?"

His expression softening slightly, Sirius smiled and said, "Nah, not by a long shot. Your dad and Remus and... Wormtail, they always used to have to drag me out of bed in the morning. When we left school and joined the Order we weren't as safe anymore. You never knew if a band of Death Eaters would show up, and they often did, so I stopped sleeping as much. When I did I was always on edge and kept waking up."

Harry stirred the remaining bits of cereal in his milk, not especially hungry anymore. "The war was pretty bad, wasn't it?"

Sirius nodded. "It seems weird that you wouldn't remember it- that anyone your age would be too young to have any memory of it at all. It feels like just yesterday to me. Then I was a dog for a while, and here I am now."

Harry hadn't thought of it that way- Sirius had had the mind of a dog for at least half of the years he was locked away in Azkaban. "Is that why you transform when you can't sleep? Because it's what you're used to?"

"Sort of." Sirius stole a sip of Harry's juice, and stood up, stretching a bit. "I'm not entirely a dog when I do- not a proper dog, at least. I'm myself, but sort of like myself crossed with a dog's mind. I know who I am, but it's all very muted, and I have all these dog-like qualities... it's hard to explain."

"Everything's muted," Harry repeated. "So that's how you're able to sleep."

"More or less," Sirius said, his tone suddenly far more chipper than it had been a moment before. "Anyway, enough of that- are you ready? We should be heading over."

Harry nodded and placed his bowl in the sink. His bag was next to his chair, and, heaving it over his shoulder, he turned to Sirius. "I'm ready."

"You might want to be careful about doing magic," his godfather warned him as they headed into the living room. "You know I don't care if you do; just don't get caught. There'll be a lot of Ministry people there."

"Right," Harry said, sighing. "I wish they were as cool about it as you are."

Sirius paused in front of the fireplace, and after a moment said, "C'mon- let's get a bit of it out of our systems, just in case you're not able to cast any spells at all-"

With a wave of his wand and a muttered incantation, Sirius sent a burst of small fireworks around the room. Harry grinned and repeated the incantation and wand movements. It took a few tries, but soon multicolored sparks were flying from his wand as well. The two sets of fireworks danced together as they leaped about the room, and for a second Harry wished the moment would last forever, just the two of them standing there smiling like a pair of idiots.

"I missed doing things like that," Sirius said as the sparks faded away. "I never thought I would again."

"When we come home we'll do it again," Harry said decisively. "Every night until I go back to school."

Sirius clapped him on the back as he reached for the Floo Powder. "It's a deal."

* * *

Sirius wanted nothing more than to run ahead of everyone else, but he was the only one who seemed to be wide awake. Arthur yawned, but he smiled enthusiastically all the same, clearly excited. "I do hope I've dressed enough like a Muggle- the last time I went incognito I wore rain galoshes in the middle of summer-"

"You're fine," Sirius reassured him. "I went to meet Lily's parents wearing a toga- James thought he would be funny and convince me they were in fashion with Muggles again."

Arthur snorted, but Sirius could see him hesitate slightly before going on. "What did they do?"

"They thought it was hilarious. Lily cried she laughed so hard..." Sirius trailed off, the image of Lily doubled over against the sofa and James preemptively shielding himself suddenly dominant in his mind. "It seems like just yesterday."

Up ahead Harry was whispering something to Ron and Hermione. Ron laughed uproariously and Hermione gave both of them a disapproving look before cracking a smile herself. It all seemed so familiar- how could James and Lily be dead? How could Peter's soul be gone? Where had the time _gone_?

"How are you holding up?" Arthur asked.

Sirius shrugged and hoisted the strap of his bag further up his shoulder. "I'm all right. I'm submitting my first column a few days after we come back. Cuffe wants me to write something funny about the game- not sure what yet, but I'll find something."

"I'm not talking about work," Arthur said. "You know that."

Shrugging again, Sirius said, "I'm fine. I mean, I'm not doing cartwheels every day, but I'm not moping about, unhinged. I enjoy Harry's company, and I'm looking forward to the game today. I'm just taking it a day at a time."

The sun was just beginning to rise, and Sirius inhaled deeply, savoring the morning air. It occurred to him that he was the only present who realized just how wonderful a lungful of fresh, clear air felt. They didn't know how beautiful the sun rising was, or how breathtaking the long expanse of grass they were currently walking across was. He wished he could just stop walking and stand there, taking it all in and forgetting the stone walls of his drafty, damp cell. He would forget how his barred window didn't stop the rain from soaking him as he slept, and he would forget wishing that he would just die in his sleep each night.

"Molly worries about you," Arthur said, keeping his tone conversational despite the subject matter. "You know how much she cares for Harry."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure she thinks I have him living in squalor," Sirius said, unable to refrain from the slightest bit of sarcasm.

"She doesn't think that at all," Arthur responded, and Sirius reminded himself that they were talking about his wife.

"I know. She's just... she's very traditional," he said, pausing to find the right word. "You know. Very into following rules. I don't have to be like that with Harry; I keep telling people that he's my mate."

"Well, Molly often worries over nothing," Arthur said casually. He pulled his glasses off and wiped them on the front of his shirt before pushing them back into place. "But she does worry about you, and not because she thinks you're an inadequate guardian."

Sirius just nodded- he knew Arthur meant well, but he also knew Molly's type well enough. Maybe she did care about his well being, but there was no doubt she also disapproved of Harry spending the summer with him. She was the type of person who'd thought he was wild and out of control back at Hogwarts, and who thought it was more important to be an authority figure to her children before being a friend. He liked her well enough, and he didn't think she despised him or anything, but they would always disagree on many aspects of guardianship- things like Harry using magic outside of school.

"So, what do you think about Harry using magic outside of school?" he asked. He knew Molly's opinion perfectly well on the subject, but Arthur was much harder to read.

"Well," Arthur said, mulling it over for several moments before continuing. "Being fully honest, I don't entirely approve, but I won't try and stop the two of you."

"You've never let the boys cast a spell or two over the holidays?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows. "Or Ginny?"

"Molly would have my head if I did," Arthur said with a laugh. "And besides that, so many things could go wrong- I once caught Fred and George trying to get Ron to make an Unbreakable Vow with them. Granted, they were far younger than Harry is now, but magic isn't something to be trifled with, especially when it comes to those who are still underage."

Sirius hadn't thought of it that way before- he was still planning on letting Harry practice magic on his own, as he was smart enough not to do something that stupid, but he'd always thought the rule had been put in place by old, decrepit men and women who enjoyed exerting their authority.

"That... makes sense, I suppose," he said, hating how adult he sounded. He could only imagine how James would mock him for it if he were still alive. But he wasn't alive, was he, and whose fault was that?

They'd reached Stoatshead Hill, and as they began to climb Sirius could feel himself running out of breath. He'd be fine if he transformed into his dog form, but he wasn't supposed to do that in public- besides, only Dumbledore, Remus, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Snape knew about that in the first place. At the thought Snape, Sirius felt his lip curl, thinking of the way he'd taken the stand at his trial just a few months ago and-

No, he wasn't going to think about that- he had to focus his energy on the task at hand. Harry and Ron continued to chat loudly, and Sirius couldn't help but feel a bit jealous. When had his body become so much less athletic than it had been as a teenager?

Two people stood at the top of the hill, and Sirius had to squint to make them out. One was a ruddy-faced man with a scrubby beard, who beamed when he saw them, waving the boot clutched in his left hand in greeting- Amos Diggory, Sirius imagined. The other was younger, probably Diggory's son.

"There you are," Diggory said, shaking Arthur's hand before turning to Sirius. "Well, if it isn't Sirius Black- I read all about the trial in the paper; it's wonderful that the truth was uncovered at last-"

"Yeah, thanks," Sirius said automatically. He'd heard similar words so many times that by now he was getting a little tired of it. "Nice to meet you."

"This is Cedric," Arthur said, gesturing at the boy next Diggory. "Amos's son."

Sirius nodded- he remembered Cedric. He'd been the Seeker for Hufflepuff during the game he'd watched last year, when Harry had fallen from his broom. He wished he could mention it, but again, he couldn't mention his dog form. Maybe he'd risk it and just say he'd been hiding while he watched? No, he could already imagine Remus's disapproving face, and the man wasn't even there.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Black," Cedric said, holding a hand out.

Mr. Black- bloody hell, no one had ever called him that before. Shaking his hand, Sirius hastened to correct him. "Just Sirius, please."

"Long walk, Arthur?" Diggory asked, placing the boot on the ground- the Portkey, most likely.

The two men began to talk, and Sirius pulled back, joining Harry, Ron, and Hermione. "Almost time."

Ron was rocking back and forth from the balls of his feet to his heels, giving the impression of nearly jumping up and down. "I can't wait- I'm a Cannons fan, but Ireland isn't bad. Who's your favorite team, Sirius?"

"I used to like the Wimbourne Wasps," Sirius said. "But I would root for the Chudley Cannons if they made it this far. Too bad they haven't won the Cup in..."

"A hundred and two years," Ron said with a sigh. "They didn't do all that bad this year, though... one day they'll pull themselves back together."

Fred- or was it George? Sirius had given up trying to tell- whoever it was, he cuffed the back of Ron's head and said, "Yeah, maybe when a mandrake becomes Minister."

"Shut it," Ron snapped, jerking away.

"Aw, is ickle Ron upset his favorite Quidditch team couldn't fly their way out of a paper bag?"

"Boys," Arthur called over, and they fell silent. "It's about time- is everyone ready?"

The ten of them crowded around the boot. Sirius managed to get a grip on one of the laces, and after a moment Arthur began to count down. "Three... two... one..."

Sirius had used Portkeys before, but the sensation was always jarring. It was rather like Apparating, but far less compressed. They were all flying about in a great circle, wind and color swirling around them, and then-

They hit the ground hard. Sirius landed on top of someone, and a female voice squeaked in combination of pain and surprise. "Oi, sorry, Ginny-"

"No problem," she said, wincing as he helped her to her feet.

Turning to his right, Sirius couldn't help but smile- Harry was grinning so widely as he craned his head around, trying to take everything in, that he found himself trying not to laugh. Already he could feel himself getting excited; it had been years since he'd been to a Quidditch match.

One of the twins sidled up next to him. "Five Galleons, first goal made by Ireland."

Sirius glanced sideways to make sure Arthur wasn't listening, and said, "Deal."

* * *

The fireworks outside had lasted well into the night. Everyone else in the tent had long since gone to sleep, and even Sirius could feel himself beginning to nod off. It was wonderful to feel himself slipping into sleep without having to transform. Bits of the day flashed behind his closed eyelids- the game, all the people... Sirius hadn't said anything, but it felt bizarre to be surrounded by so _many_ people when for so long he'd been all alone. The looks didn't bother him much- it was better to be stared at than to be on the run and hiding all the time. Still, he couldn't help but feel grateful that he had a bit more space now than he did before.

There were several more bangs from outside, and Sirius was tempted to join them. Maybe he'd write his piece for Cuffe about the celebrations and how Quidditch somehow transformed everyone into a group of raving lunatics. Forcing himself out of bed and holding back a yawn, Sirius slipped into the boys' room. Harry was out like a light, and he had to shake him several times before he woke up.

"Come outside with me," he whispered. "Everyone's celebrating. We'll do the firework spell again."

Harry mumbled something under his breath, and got to his feet, rubbing his eyes. Together they made their way toward the entrance to the tent. A particularly loud bang jolted the two of them further awake, and with a sudden slight unease Sirius couldn't explain, he pushed the flap to the tent aside. The shouts had abruptly changed from celebratory to something more like jeering, and Sirius could just make out people running into the woods.

"What's going on?" Harry asked, blinking several times.

"Dunno," Sirius said. "D'you have your wand?"

"Yeah."

"Hold onto it," he advised, removing his own wand from his pocket as well.

There was a noise behind them, and Sirius turned to see Arthur pushing his glasses further up his nose. "What-"

"We don't know," Sirius said before he could ask. "We just came out and-"

For a moment he was certain he was dreaming. There was a crowd of wizards up ahead with hoods and masks- masks Sirius had seen many times years before. Death Eaters- it couldn't be; Voldemort was gone- the Death Eaters were all gone; those days were just a bad memory-

Arthur was back inside the tent before Sirius could say anything, and he could hear him shouting for the others to get up. Harry stiffened beside him and, wordlessly, looked at him for an explanation.

"Death Eaters," he managed to say, his voice tight. "Voldemort's followers."

"What? But-"

"Yeah. I know." Sirius gripped his wand tightly and took a few steps forward. "Stay here; I'll be right back-"

"Sirius-"

"Stay there," he repeated, and began to jog toward the crowd.

It was all coming back to him- duels in forests and on Diagon Alley; the rush of adrenaline that came with fighting a Death Eater. He hadn't done this in years, but it felt entirely natural. All he needed now was James at his side, or Remus, or even Peter- they'd fought a few times side by side, the traitorous bastard-

Several of the Death Eaters waved their wands, and with a burst of green light, four figures shot into the air. Muggles- the man who ran the campsite and his family. Tents were beginning to topple over as more Death Eaters joined the crowd. How could there be so many left? Sirius's stomach tightened and he felt a small spark in his stomach rise into a flame that seemed to spread across his entire body, reaching a boil, and-

One of the Death Eaters saw him just as he shot a spell- he had no idea which it was, and the wizard he'd sent it at deflected it with ease- and suddenly jets of light were coming at him from all directions. Instinct kicked in, and Sirius dropped to the ground, flattening himself against the dirt as he cast a shield charm.

Right- he could do this. The years that had passed seemed to melt away and Sirius felt almost as though he was actually a teenager again. One time he and Lily had dueled his cousin, Bellatrix- in the end she had Apparated away before they could capture her- and for nearly an hour after they'd talked, getting to truly know each other for the first time. He'd always thought of her as nothing more than the girl James had fallen for, and until she hadn't thought much of him at all.

Sirius pushed himself up into a crouched position and imagined Lily was next to him, unleashing hexes, while James transfigured the nearest Death Eater's head into a beetle's. Remus had always been good at sneaking up from behind- Sirius pretended that he was right behind the crowd and would soon start unleashing a few hexes of his own. Hell, even Peter could be there- he hadn't known he was a traitor until after everything had fallen apart, so if he was going to pretend to be a teenager again, old Wormtail was a friend.

"If it isn't the Dark Lord's most trusted servant!" one of the Death Eaters shouted, and there was a roar of laughter from the rest.

_Scum_- how could people like them still exist? Pointing his wand at the masked figure who'd called out, Sirius shouted, "_Petrificus Totalus!_"

He couldn't kill them, Sirius knew that; he wouldn't have done it even if he'd been able to get away with it. Something in the back of his head told him it might be slightly difficult to Body Bind about fifty to a hundred Death Eaters, but, well, he couldn't just leave them there, could he?

A jet of red light came his way, and Sirius narrowly dodged it. He could feel it all but graze the side of his face- the Cruciatus Curse, he was certain. Stunning Spells didn't feel nearly as hot as they passed. This was confirmed when about twenty similar curses came in his direction- Sirius was fast, but he wasn't fast enough to dodge all of them. Something connected with his leg, then his neck, and suddenly it was as though thousands of knives were digging into every inch of his body. It was agonizing, and as Sirius rocked back and forth on the ground the moon overhead seemed to distort into grotesque shapes. The Death Eaters were laughing, and just as the effects of the curse began to fade he felt himself begin to rise into the air.

"Sirius!"

They were raising him up with the others- Sirius reached for his wand, but it slipped through his shaking fingers to the ground below. A new wave of laughter rang throughout his ears, and he began to struggle with all his might. Damn it, he wasn't that old, he could take them on- maybe he was outnumbered, but he could put up a fight-

"_Expelliarmus!_"

Suddenly he wasn't moving up anymore, and for a moment Sirius didn't know what was going on. There was a rushing in his ears and all the colors around him seemed to flash by at a much faster pace then usual- ah. He was falling.

He hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of him. Reaching about for his wand, Sirius was surrounded not only by Death Eaters but by men and women in black robes- Aurors. Someone stepped on his hand and for a split second he had the absurd impulse to bite their leg- maybe he'd been transforming too much lately. Someone grabbed the back of his shirt, helped him to his feet, and shoved something into his hand- his wand.

"Thanks," Sirius managed to say, and shot a Body Bind curse at the nearest Death Eater. The person behind him did as well, and as Sirius heard whose voice it was his stomach sank. Jerking around, he saw Harry, beads of sweat running down his brow as he clutched his own wand as though his life depended on it.

"Get back to the tent!" Sirius shouted over the din. "Or into the woods- get out of here; it's too dangerous!"

"You're here, aren't you?" Harry shouted back. "I'm not just going to let you get killed-"

Sirius shoved him backwards, in the direction of the woods. He was grateful for the help, and for a moment he considered letting Harry help him out- after all, it was almost like fighting side by side with James again- but the moonlight streaming down on both of them exposed Harry's face like Sirius had never seen it before. Holy shit, he was _young_. Not that he hadn't known he was only fourteen, but surrounded by all this chaos it stood out more than it ever had before.

"No, go back-" Sirius felt his anger begin to rise when Harry turned away from him and sent a Disarming Spell at a nearby Death Eater, who sent a jet of red light in their direction.

Sirius yanked Harry out of the way, narrowly avoiding the curse himself, and, gripping Harry's arm so tightly that he gasped, he shouted, "_Go!_ Now!"

Harry hesitated. "But-"

They were going to be killed if they kept this up much longer. Keeping his grip on Harry's arm, Sirius yanked him toward the woods and began to run with him. He wanted to stay and fight, but if Harry wouldn't leave- In the distance, something flew up into the sky and burst forth in a display of light- a leering skull with a snake slithering out of its mouth. Sirius stopped dead in his tracks, wondering if this was all just an awful dream, as the Dark Mark filled the night sky.


	4. Beginnings

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

* * *

_Chapter Four:_

The skull lit up the night sky, and even though Harry didn't quite know what it was, it seemed clear that it wasn't good. People had begun to shout and point, while others hurried deeper into the woods. Turning to look at Sirius, Harry found that he had gone deathly pale.

"Move," he said, grabbing Harry by the arm once more and pulling him further into the woods.

"Sirius, what-"

"Now!" Sirius shouted, digging his fingernails into Harry's arm and all but dragging him along.

Harry stumbled, and for a moment he feared his legs weren't going to obey. But they did, and soon he was running, though not fast enough for Sirius, who didn't let go of his arm and continued to drag him further along. The deeper into the woods they went, the larger and more closely spaced the trees became, and Harry found himself stumbling over tree roots and rocks. There was next to no light aside from the stars and the glowing green skull in the sky, making it difficult to see where they were going.

"Slow down, would you?" Harry panted, narrowly avoiding toppling over a fallen branch.

Sirius ignored him, his gaze flickering up toward the sky. Harry looked up as well and found that although the skull was partially obscured by the branches of the surrounding trees he could just make out a snake slithering from its open mouth. Sirius still hadn't released his arm, and Harry squirmed to break loose- his grip was tighter than Harry suspected he realized.

"What is that thing?" he asked as they finally began to slow down.

Sirius didn't answer straight away, instead yanking Harry behind a particularly large tree and glancing around to see if they'd been pursued. They were the only ones in the immediate vicinity, but that didn't seem to satisfy him.

"It's the Dark Mark," he finally said, placing his hands on his knees and bending over to catch his breath. Continuing to glance around, he said, "Voldemort and his followers used it whenever they killed."

Harry's insides turned to ice, and he glanced around as well, half expecting Voldemort himself to suddenly materialize.

"You mean-" He swallowed. "Where are the others? Do you think...?"

"I don't know," Sirius said. He raised his wand, then lowered it with a frown. "I'd send a Patronus, but I haven't any idea where they are."

"Back near the tent, maybe?" Harry asked, horrible images of the Weasleys and Hermione lying dead on the ground flitting through his mind. "Maybe we should go back-"

"I'll go," Sirius said, straightening himself up and clenching his wand tightly. "You stay here and try and find the others."

"What? No," Harry protested. "I'm not letting you go back there alone. You were nearly killed before!"

"And so were you!" Sirius shot back at him. "I told you to stay back- I had the situation handled!"

Harry nearly laughed out loud, despite being far from amused. "Are you joking? They were torturing you!"

Sirius ran a hand through his hair, his expression stony, and took a step in Harry's direction. Putting both hands on his shoulders, he said, "Listen. I'm going back, and you're staying behind- do you hear me? You don't know what it's like to deal with Death Eaters and I do; trust me on this."

Harry disagreed- he knew exactly what it was like to deal with Voldemort and his followers. Before he could say this, Sirius continued on with, "Find the others and find somewhere safe. If they reopen the campsite later we'll meet at the tent; if not, we'll meet at the Burrow. All right?"

"I want to come with you," Harry argued. "I know how to fight-"

"No," Sirius said sharply, and he gripped Harry's shoulders a little more tightly. "I have enough to worry about right now; the last thing I need is to have to rescue you. Promise me you'll stay. Promise me."

"Fine," Harry said. "_Fine_, I will."

He had no intention of staying behind, but he realized that it was no use trying to wear Sirius down at the moment. Besides, Sirius was his friend, and it wasn't as though he really had any final say in the matter. If it were Mr. Weasley it would be one thing, but this was _Sirius_. That, and their current situation was rather like that night in the Shrieking Shack- when they'd left and Remus transformed, Sirius had told him to run and he'd stayed behind. Sirius had never been upset with him for that; he'd just been trying to protect him in the heat of the moment. It was what a friend did.

A friend also never stayed behind while another put him or herself in danger.

Sirius gave him a quick, far more gentler squeeze on the shoulder and hurried back the way he'd come. Harry let several moments pass before following.

The woods were nearly empty- there had been quite a few people gathered at the edge where it met the campsite, but he was completely alone now. When he nearly toppled over a tree root for what felt like the twentieth time, he lit his wand with a quick, "_Lumos_."

In the distance Harry could hear a faint commotion, and he considered heading that way, but Sirius was likely heading back where the Death Eaters had initially been. Gripping his wand, he sped up a bit, trying to remember the spells Sirius had taught him over the summer.

What spells did he know that were good for dueling? At Hogwarts they'd mainly learned things like how to turn a piece of straw into a needle or a charm to make someone cheerful. Neither seemed like they would be all that effective against a Death Eater trying to kill him. Even Sirius had mainly taught him things like how to shoot water from the tip of his wand and various useless pranks.

The Disarming Spell, that would work, and the Body-Bind Curse. Maybe the Hover Charm could help him in a pinch. Harry had never fought a large crowd at once, and he tried to think of defensive spells.

Was this what the war had been like? Had Sirius been worried as he'd fought off countless Death Eaters? Had his parents' own stomachs turned over in nervous anticipation as a fight began?

Harry had reached the edge of the woods. He was starting to see other people now, but didn't recognize any of them. Whoever they were, they didn't pay him any mind, and soon he'd passed the last tree and found himself running across the clearing where tents had been erected barely fifteen minutes before. Most had been trampled to the ground, and those still standing looked worse for the wear, as though they too would topple at any given moment.

The Death Eaters were gone, replaced by the wizards and witches who had rushed in before. They were all dressed identically, and Harry imagined they were the wizarding world's equivalent of police.

"Get back," one shouted at him. "The danger has passed. We'll be reopening the campsite shortly."

Harry nodded and turned back the way he'd come. The worst was over, at least. Now all he had to do was make sure that the others were safe.

Someone was striding toward him from the direction of the woods. Harry paused, trying to see who it was in the dim light, and upon holding his lit wand in front of him he saw that it was a murderous looking Sirius.

"I thought I told you-"

"I wasn't about to let you get killed," Harry cut in quickly, before he could get any further. "You're my mate!"

Sirius's face contorted into an ugly expression so uncanny to Uncle Vernon's when he was furious that Harry involuntarily took a step back. "Calm down; it's not that big a deal-"

"Not that big a deal?" Sirius shouted. "I told you three bloody times to stay away- are you deaf or just stupid?"

Harry blanched. "It's really not that big a deal! It's like... like when I stayed behind when you told me to run back when Remus..."

He trailed off- most people around them were either too far away to hear them or too busy to care, but he didn't want to blab about Remus's condition in public either way.

"You don't know what Death Eaters are like," Sirius said sharply. "You haven't had to deal with the Dark Arts-"

"Yeah, I guess when my parents were killed by Voldemort that was just a walk in the park," he shot back, wishing Sirius would stop looking at him as though he were a child. He'd never looked at him like that before, and Harry didn't like it at all. "I suppose when he was living on the back of Quirrell's head and I was nearly throttled doesn't count either. The basilisk he set on me didn't involve the Dark Arts, and when it turned out my best mate's rat was-"

"Shut up," Sirius snapped. "You know what I mean."

"And you know what I mean!" Harry snapped back. "This isn't exactly something new for me! I've managed to get by pretty well without being coddled before now!"

"I'm not coddling you- telling you not to do something moronic isn't coddling!"

"Never mind the fact that you ran in headlong first," Harry reminded him. "I saved _your_ life and I'm the one being moronic?"

"You're a kid!" Sirius shouted, waving a hand for emphasis. "If I tell you to do something you have to do it!"

Harry took another step back. He felt winded, as though someone had punched him in the stomach. "Whatever happened to me being your friend? You said we were housemates! You said there weren't any rules!"

Sirius's expression contorted into something that appeared to be confusion, frustration, and anger all at once, and when he opened his mouth to speak nothing came out.

"What do you want from me?" Harry went on. "You don't care if I do magic but if I stay out late you shout at me! You praise me for what happened in the Shrieking Shack but when I save your life you're furious- you say there aren't any rules, but I keep seem to be breaking them, don't I?"

Taking several deep breaths, Sirius said in a low voice, "I expect you to use your discretion. I expect you to know when not to rush into things, whether I did first or not-"

"I don't think I was all that unjustified," Harry interrupted. "Look, if you want to set rules, fine, I don't care, but would you at least be consistent? Because I have no clue when I'm going to set you off!"

Sirius didn't respond at first, instead taking several more deep breaths. "All right, here's your rules- stop being an idiot and running into danger. There, is that so hard?"

Harry glared at him- why was he being such a jerk? He'd saved his life! Sirius had always said he wasn't going to be an authority figure, so why was he acting like one now? He wasn't going to be scolded like a child for saving him!

"We're mates," he said. "You told Wormtail back in the Shrieking Shack that he should have died rather than betray his friends. If it means risking my life, I'll put myself in danger any day to protect the people I care about."

"You're fourteen," Sirius said, so softly that Harry could barely hear him. "That changes things."

"So what if I'm fourteen? What does that change?"

Sirius shook his head. He looked exhausted, and putting a hand on the small of Harry's back he lightly pushed him back towards the woods. "Enough. I can't keep doing this."

"Well, I can-"

"And I can't!" he repeated, his voice going slightly steelier than it had been a moment before. "Harry, if you don't move I'll charm you to."

Harry hesitated, ready to call Sirius's bluff, but when his godfather raised his wand he began to walk. He still thought he was bluffing, but he had to admit that he was exhausted as well. Overhead, the Dark Mark had just begun to fade, and only the faintest greenish hue remained in the sky.

* * *

He wasn't particularly hungry, but Sirius had made himself a sandwich anyway. It was bland and tasteless, and he wasn't sure whether it seemed that way because he had more important things on his mind or because he was terrible when it came to cooking.

It was probably a bit of both- he still struggled when it came to making meals, and Harry helped him more often that not. He claimed he'd cooked every now and then for the Dursleys- breakfast, mostly- and although he wasn't a culinary chef in the making he was by far the best of the two. Sirius didn't mind bland food, though. He'd lived off disgusting, barely digestible goop while in Azkaban, and anything was better than that. Particularly rich food made him sick, so he was trying to slowly build up a tolerance for it over time. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he still occasionally had a taste for the canned pet food kindly old ladies had set out for him while he was on the run as a dog.

Taking a second bite from his sandwich, Sirius felt his stomach close up- he was full and there was no use forcing more down. He placed the sandwich back down on his plate and walked into the living room, glancing up at the ceiling as though he could somehow see Harry through it. They hadn't said a word to each other since they'd come home in the early hours of the morning. Sirius kept telling himself that he would come downstairs eventually and apologize, though he knew that it was highly unlikely.

He hadn't been unjustified in telling him off. He'd told him to stay behind no less than three times, and he hadn't listened once. He'd had the right to do that, and it hadn't been because Harry was young. He wasn't being an authority figure, he was... well, he didn't know what he was being but it wasn't that. He was being a friend- but he wouldn't have shouted at James if he'd rushed in to save him, or Remus. It was different when it was Harry, but Sirius didn't want to believe it was only because he was fourteen.

Sirius didn't know how to be a godfather. He didn't know how to be an adult. When it came to Harry, he thought of himself as playing the role of something similar to an older brother instead of a parent.

Green flames suddenly erupted in the fireplace, and barely a moment later Remus had stepped over the threshold and into the living room. "There you are."

"Hey, Moony," Sirius said, grateful to see his friend. Maybe he'd have some advice.

"The one day I choose to sleep in," Remus said, almost ruefully. "I Flooed to the Burrow as soon as I read the paper and Arthur and Molly said you'd come home. Arthur said the Death Eaters tried to lift you up with the Muggles- are you all right now?"

"Yeah, I think so," Sirius said, taking a seat on the sofa. Remus joined him, sitting at the armchair. "I'm not hurt, at least. I'm... it's a long story."

Remus nodded at him to go on, and he said, "When the Death Eaters attacked, I told Harry to get to safety. He didn't- he sort of saved me, actually. I told him to run again, and he wouldn't, so I dragged him into the woods and made him promise he would stay."

"I'm guessing he didn't."

Sirius shook his head. "I sort of shouted at him, and then we ended up fighting..."

He recounted the gist of the argument to Remus, and finished with, "I do think that he was incredibly brave, and I'm not trying to be a parent to him, but I'm still angry. I don't understand it... I wouldn't have shouted like that at a friend."

"Is it all that awful, taking a parental role?" Remus asked. "Don't you think it would be better to be his parent and his friend as opposed to just being his friend?"

Sirius shook his head again. "It's not my place, Remus. James and Lily were- _are_ his parents, not me."

"And who asked you to be his godfather?" Remus leaned forward and looked directly at him. "They knew that it was very likely they wouldn't survive the war- they knew it even more than we did. Voldemort had targeted Harry, God only knows why, and they knew it was only a matter of time until he caught up with them. They wanted you to raise him if they didn't survive when that time came."

Opening his mouth to speak, Sirius found the words catching in his throat. He swallowed, but the dryness remained. "I don't know how to. I don't know how to be an adult; I never learned how. _You're_ an adult- you got a job and rented a flat after the war. You made a life for yourself and became a professor. When things are difficult you always know what to do. I went to Azkaban when I was twenty-one and as far as I'm concerned I'm still twenty-one. How can I be a substitute parent to a fourteen year old when I still feel like I'm barely out of my teens?"

"You think I always know what to do?" Remus asked, letting out a small, quiet laugh. "Adulthood isn't how you imagine it, Sirius. I don't feel all that much different than I did at twenty-one either. You just sort of keep going and hope you don't mess up too badly. I'm winging it just as much as you are."

"Then how am I supposed to be a parent?" Sirius closed his eyes and pressed his fingers against his eyelids. "If I'm just stumbling around as much as he is?"

"I don't know," Remus said. "I'm not a parent either. But most of them seem to figure it out eventually, don't they?"

"My parents didn't," Sirius said, thinking of his childhood. "What if I turn out like them?"

"I highly doubt you're going to start beating Harry or cultivate a rousing interest in supporting the Dark Arts."

"No, but what if I mess things up? I've been in Azkaban for twelve years! It's hard enough to get over that, much less raise a teenager!" Sirius shook his head violently. "Maybe someday I'll be ready to be a parent, but not yet. For now I'm his mate- nothing more, nothing less."

"And that's your decision," Remus said, expressionless. "But it does make dealing with what happened today a bit difficult, doesn't it?"

"He _was_ brave," Sirius said desperately, trying to justify it. "It was just what James would have done-"

"He isn't James," Remus reminded him.

"That doesn't matter!" Sirius said, though he knew Remus was right. All of it was right. "Damn it..."

Remus leaned back in his seat and raised his eyebrows in the direction of the stairs. "Are you comfortable?"

"What are you talking about?" Sirius asked, and Remus nodded once more at the stairs.

He just caught a glimpse of a shoe as it shot up out of sight, and he sighed. "Oi. Come down here, would you?"

Harry slowly descended down the stairs, his face, like Remus's, completely blank. "I was just going to the bathroom."

"There's only one bathroom and it's upstairs," Remus reminded him. "Were you planning to sit on the staircase and wet yourself?"

Harry flushed red and sat next to Sirius on the sofa. No one said anything, and Sirius found himself staring at the stone bricks making up the back wall of the fireplace. It reminded him of the wall of his cell, and he moved his gaze upward toward the ceiling, just as he had before Remus had visited.

"I'm not asking you to be my dad," Harry finally said. Sirius turned to look at him and found that he was staring at the coffee table. "I just want to know how things work. If there are rules, fine. But I don't know what you want when you don't care about some things I do but get angry at other things."

"I suck at this," Sirius said, sighing.

Harry shrugged. "So do I. With the Dursleys it was a matter of staying out of their way and not getting caught when I broke their rules. I respect you more than to do that... but I don't know what you want in the first place."

"I told you to stay behind," Sirius told him. "That was pretty clear, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but..." Harry trailed off. "You're my friend. Friends don't do that."

"You're fourteen," Sirius said, hating himself. He didn't want to play that card, but he had before and he was now.

"That didn't mean anything before."

"I know," Sirius said. "And I don't want it to, but it does. I want us to just be housemates and never tell you to do as I say and not as I do, but... I think I have to sometimes. I just don't know when."

Remus cleared his throat slightly. "Perhaps in cases of danger?"

Harry glanced up, making eye contact with Sirius for the first time. "I don't know if I can do that. Not if you could die."

"You have to, Harry," Remus said. "You've been through a lot for someone your age. You've been through a lot for someone _twice_ your age. But if you always rush headlong into danger you're going to end up getting yourself killed."

Sirius nodded, his stomach twisting at the thought of Harry ending up dead like his parents. "I don't know if you know this, but the night your parents were killed I went to the house and helped Hagrid clear the rubble from your bedroom. I saw your mum's body, and before going upstairs I saw your dad's body too. You... you don't know what that was like, Harry. I can't let that happen to you, and I won't let it. Even if it means acting like an adult."

The words came from him unbidden, and they sounded unfamiliar as he spoke them. He tried not to think about the lifeless corpses of James and Lily and how their faces had been waxy and so unlike them in death. They'd both been animated people, always joking and smiling. Harry resembled his father to an almost disturbing degree, and the thought of Harry's expressionless eyes staring up at him made him feel as though he might be sick.

He wasn't going to be an authority figure. He wasn't going to shout or scream. He wasn't going to set bedtimes or send Harry to his room. But he wasn't going to be guilted into letting him risk his life just because they were mates.

Harry nodded, clearly exhausted, and said, "Fine."

He wasn't in full agreement, Sirius could see that, but... it was something. It was a start.

"I'll try and stop running into fifty-on-one Death Eater battles as well," Sirius offered, and felt a wave of relief wash over him when Harry smiled. "We'll do it together, so if everything goes to hell we'll both be at fault."

"Fine," Harry repeated, his voice slightly less clipped this time. "I'll try... I can't promise anything, but I'll try."

"Thanks." Sirius squeezed his shoulder, wishing he could fix everything with the simple gesture, but settling for the small comfort it provided.

He glanced up at Remus, having half forgotten that he was present. He received a smile and an encouraging nod in response, which, at the moment, was more than enough.

* * *

Harry sat on the lid of his trunk, trying to force it shut. They'd gone shopping at Diagon Alley earlier in the day, and in two days he'd be on the Hogwarts Express. The trunk wouldn't close, and he gave up, turning back to the nearly finished essay on his desk. He was scrambling to finish his homework, but he was mostly done and there was only his Divination essay to do after his current Herbology one. Divination wouldn't take more than an hour or so; he just needed to come up with new ways in which he would die over the next year to satisfy Professor Trelawney.

"Want to go flying in a bit?" Sirius asked, poking his head in.

Harry turned around and saw that he was holding the Nimbus 2001 he'd bought earlier in the day. "Sure. Just let me finish this essay."

"Have fun with that," Sirius said, and glancing at Harry's trunk, he waved his wand, causing everything to fly into place.

"Thanks." Harry smiled at him and turned back to his homework.

They weren't fighting, at least. Still, something had changed and Harry wasn't sure if they'd ever regain the casual sort of friendship they'd had. Not that it would be the end of the world if Sirius set a rule or two, but even so, Harry knew things were about to change.

Rising to his feet, he crossed the room and paused outside Sirius's open bedroom door. "Hey."

Sirius had been putting his new broom back in his closet, and he shut the door as he turned around. "Yeah?"

"Look, I just..." Harry tried to find the right words for what he was feeling, but as he wasn't entirely certain of what he was feeling to begin with, he stumbled slightly. "I just... I want you to know that however things change I'm glad to have spent the summer here. I'm glad that you're my godfather."

Sirius's muscles relaxed, and Harry realized that they'd been tense until now. "Thanks, Harry. You know I feel the same way."

"Good," Harry said, then paused. "Good. Do you... do you maybe want to fly now?"

Sirius seemed to be on the verge of accepting his offer, but after a moment he shook his head. "Nah. You should probably finish up your homework. Last thing you need is detention when you go back to school... After dinner, maybe?"

Harry nodded, then started back toward his room. They were maybe a bit more formal with one another than they had been, and their conversations weren't quite as effortless, but it wouldn't be that way forever. Whatever happened, they'd figure things out. They'd figured things out so far, hadn't they?

"I'm going to write to Dumbledore," Sirius called after him. "About the winter holidays."

Harry stopped and turned around. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. The Dursleys are still your official guardians, and you'll have to spend part of next summer with them to keep up your blood protection, but there's no reason for you to spend the winter holidays with them. I doubt Christmases with them are all that warm and fuzzy."

"They aren't," Harry admitted. "You should see the presents they send me; they're awful. I usually just stay at Hogwarts at Christmas."

Sirius nodded slowly, then said, "If you'd rather stay there- I mean, it's your choice-"

"I'd rather spend it with you," Harry said, adding, "If that's all right."

"You're always welcome here," Sirius said, and he gave him an awkward sort of smile. "Maybe your aunt's and uncle's house is legally your home, but this will always be your home as well. You know that, right?"

Harry wasn't much of a hugger, and until now his physical contact with Sirius had been limited to pats on the back and squeezes to the shoulder here and there. Still, something compelled him to take a few steps forward and wrap an arm around his godfather in what felt like the most awkward hug of all time. Sirius let out a small grunt and patted him on the back, returning the hug with his other arm. The whole thing was far from natural, but Harry didn't mind. It was close enough.

"It's not easy, is it?" Sirius said. "This whole family thing."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "But it's worth it, right? You always say we'll figure things out."

"We will," Sirius said, and Harry wondered if he felt as confident as he sounded. "And if we don't, it'll make a great pub story."

Harry laughed and started toward his bedroom once again. "I should finish my essay if we're going to fly tonight."

Sitting at his desk, Harry counted how many rolls of parchment he'd already completed. Three- that meant he only needed one more if he wanted a fairly decent grade. He reached for a quill and dipped it in his bottle of ink, already imagining what one on one Quidditch would be like with a Firebolt and a Nimbus 2001.

* * *

Sirius never felt quite as out of place as he did when surrounded by parents and their children. It always happened- the adults saw who he was, and instinct kicked in before anything else. They stiffened, and their hands closed on the arms of their children before logic overcame memory and they quickly let go, trying to pretend nothing had happened in the first place.

"There you are!" Arthur called out, waving as they approached.

Sirius noted that even Molly hesitated for the briefest of moments, and they were on good terms, if not friends. He supposed it was only instinct and that he shouldn't blame her for it, but he couldn't help but wonder if his past would always follow him wherever he went. He thought back to his first visit to the _Daily Prophet_ and how he'd marveled at the friendliness of the writers who had thoroughly ripped him apart over the course of twelve years- would everyone turn against him once more if the opportunity arose?

He pushed the thought aside- he couldn't think about the past; his job now was to move forward. He'd be heading for the _Prophet_ headquarters later today, actually, with his first attempt at a column. He didn't know what Cuffe would think of it, but even if it was awful he'd give him pointers on how to better his writing. There was always room for improvement, after all.

"Harry, how are you?" Molly asked, giving him what appeared to be a bone crushing hug.

"I'm all right, thanks," Harry said, pushing his glasses back up his nose from where they'd been displaced. "How are you?"

"Just fine." Molly turned to Sirius and smiled at him as well. "Sirius, how have you been?"

"Not bad, Molly," Sirius said. He noticed Bill and Charlie had accompanied their parents and siblings to the station and said, "I didn't know you two were coming."

"We thought we'd say goodbye in person," Bill explained. "We don't get to see everyone as often as we like; I still can't believe Ron's fourteen and Ginny's thirteen..."

Sirius nodded- when he'd been in Azkaban it was hard to picture Harry as being anything but a toddler even though he knew life was going on outside the prison's walls. "It doesn't seem that long ago that I was at Hogwarts."

"Yeah," Charlie said with a nod. "I wish I was still there, at least for this year- we'll explain more once the train leaves. It's going to be one hell of a year."

"Oh, really?" Sirius asked, raising his eyebrows.

Charlie and Bill grinned, looking rather like the twins, but said nothing more on the subject.

"Help me with my trunk?" Harry asked, taking Hedwig's cage in one hand and the handle on one side of his trunk with the other.

"Sure," Sirius said, levitating it with his wand.

Harry laughed. "That does work better."

His belongings safely on the train, Harry hurried back to the Weasleys to say goodbye. Molly gave him another tight hug, and Arthur shook his hand, both smiling at him and looking amazingly parental. Sirius felt a wave of jealousy threaten to overtake him. How was it so simple for them? Was it possible that he could be something other than Harry's friend? It seemed impossible and foreign, but maybe someday it wouldn't seem so difficult.

Maybe.

"Thanks for having me for the summer," Harry said, having returned to his side. His tone was awkwardly formal, and Sirius reached out and ruffled his hair, just as James had done to his own when they were teenagers.

"Write to me, all right? And use your mirror any time you want to chat."

"I will," Harry said, relaxing. "Take care of yourself. Are you going to be all right, alone?"

Sirius wasn't looking forward to being in an empty house, but he simply shrugged and said, "I'll have my job; that'll keep me busy. And I'll spend some time with Remus, and the Weasleys as well. Don't worry about me."

The train was about to leave any moment, and Ron and Hermione walked up so they could join Harry. Sirius took a step back and said, "Have a good year, you three. Hopefully I'll see you all at Christmas."

"Sounds great!" Ron said cheerfully. "See you soon!"

Hermione smiled as well and said, "Thanks for inviting us to your housewarming party; it was a lot of fun."

"Hopefully you'll both be able to visit again soon," Sirius said, realizing he barely knew Harry's two best friends. "Maybe you can spend a few days with us over the winter holidays, or at Easter."

The whistle of the Hogwarts sounded for the last time and the train began to slowly move forward. Sirius walked alongside it, only stopping once it began to pick up speed. Harry stretched his arm up in a wave, and he waved back, only realizing then how much he would miss his godson over the next few months. He exhaled as the train turned a corner, out of view, and turned away, walking back into the crowd of parents and relatives.

"It's difficult," Molly said, giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "The first time we sent Bill to Hogwarts I cried for days."

"She did," Charlie said, nodding, as did Arthur. "It was great, actually- she was so happy to have the rest of us around that I got whatever I asked for for nearly a month-"

Molly smacked the back of his head lightly, smiling and turning back to Sirius. "If you ever get lonely we'll be happy to have you over."

"Thanks, Molly," Sirius said, appreciating the offer. He doubted they'd ever be the best of friends, but he enjoyed her company. "I appreciate it."

They began to walk back toward the wall leading to the Muggle portion of the station. The crowd formed a line, two or three people slipping through at a time.

"So," he said, waiting for it to be his turn. "Bill, Charlie, what was it you were saying about Hogwarts this year?"

The four Weasleys present shared knowing looks, and Arthur leaned forward to be heard over the din of the platform. "Have you ever heard of the Triwizard Tournament?"


End file.
